Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | The Acostas Box Set: The Shameless Life of Ruiz Acosta / The Argentinian′s Solace / A Taste of the Untamed / The Man From her Wayward Past / Taming the Last Acosta / Christmas Nights with the Polo Player

The Acostas Box Set: The Shameless Life of Ruiz Acosta / The Argentinian's Solace / A Taste of the Untamed / The Man From her Wayward Past / Taming the Last Acosta / Christmas Nights with the Polo Player
Susan Stephens
THE ACOSTAS BOX SETSuperb, passionate six book Modern Romance collection by Susan Stephens featuring the sexy, glamorous Argentinean Acosta familyTHE SHAMELESS LIFE OF RUIZ ACOSTAHolly Valiant desperately needs hot new material for Rock! magazine. Luckily her temporary flatmate, sexy Argentine polo player Ruiz Acosta, is the perfect subject – who wouldn’t want to know everything about the agony and ecstasy of living with a playboy?THE ARGENTINIAN’S SOLACEDiego Acosta’s polo-playing days are over. Living in self-imposed exile on his island idyll, he finds his nights are now filled with tormenting memories rather than the beautiful women who once graced his king-sized bed. When Maxie Parrish crashes into his solitude, radiating exuberance and a love of life, she burns so brightly he can’t take his eyes off her!A TASTE OF THE UNTAMEDThe wild, unpredictable polo champion Nacho Acosta is restoring his sprawling Argentinian vineyard and he needs a sommelier who can match his exacting tastes… THE MAN FROM HER WAYWARD PASTA paler, quieter Lucia’s gone from owning the dance floor to cleaning it, when a ghost from parties past walks in…Luke Forster would recognise those curves anywhere – he grew up hypnotised by them! The real Lucia Acosta is still in there somewhere, and he’s the man to tempt her out…TAMING THE LAST ACOSTALiving vicariously through a camera lens, photojournalist Romy Winner is happy to stay in the background, capturing other people’s happiness. Until Argentinian polo champion turned Special Forces soldier Kruz Acosta challenges her to step out of the shadows – and into his bed!CHRISTMAS NIGHTS WITH THE POLO PLAYERLucy Lavender knows she should resist wickedly sexy boss, and Brazilian polo champion, Gabe Ortoya. Playboy Gabe is vet Lucy's ticket to a career in equine medicine and she's going to make full use of her valuable new contact, which means no mixing business with pleasure…


Passion, temptation and seduction! Welcome to the world ofThe Acostas!Argentina’s most scandalous family!
The Shameless Life of Ruiz Acosta Holly knows she should keep her distance from sexy polo player Ruiz Acosta, but this playboy makes all the rules…
The Argentinian’s Solace When wedding planner Maxie crashes Diego Acosta’s self–imposed exile, he’s determined to seek revenge…by seducing her!
A Taste of the Untamed Nacho Acosta is back! Expecting to meet meek and vulnerable Grace, instead he gets fiery independence…and exciting sensuality!
The Man from Her Wayward Past Formerly fun-loving and feisty, Lucia Acosta hides a terrible secret. Can sexy Luke Forster tempt her to share it?
Taming the Last Acosta Polo champion turned Special Forces soldier Kruz Acosta challenges photojournalist Romy to step out of the shadows…and into his bed!
Christmas Nights with the Polo Player Spend Christmas with polo champ, Gabe Ortoya as he whisks shy, English rose Lucy Lavender off her feet…and into his arms!
Lose yourself in Susan Stephen’s world of fiery passion, thundering hooves and rampaging barbarians!

The Acostas Box Set

The Shameless Life of Ruiz Acosta
The Argentinian’s Solace
A Taste of the Untamed
The Man from Her Wayward Past
Taming the Last Acosta
Christmas Nights with the Polo Player
Susan Stephens


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Table of Contents
Cover (#u365977bc-0d66-5261-b854-33665aeff42b)
Back Cover Copy (#udb549ff4-fa4c-5f93-88ed-e742d67d8e32)
Title Page (#uf35a82fb-570c-501f-832a-e9a01f54e76d)
The Shameless Life of Ruiz Acosta (#uf71a4b3a-d37b-5e0d-b0ae-c02b04b9bf16)
PROLOGUE (#u7389f55a-ffb1-5fa1-b19a-201d34b4fab6)
CHAPTER ONE (#u7e3c7cd2-41b6-5bc6-8136-33b7f4e6de27)
CHAPTER TWO (#u5885d343-25ff-5b23-9f8d-9d95e6daf4a4)
CHAPTER THREE (#u03448af5-a44e-5081-a119-94cd038d1bdd)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u30966ff8-eecb-5d34-a318-e401989620a1)
CHAPTER FIVE (#u9502c53f-92c3-57a3-9172-125ba5f78ffe)
CHAPTER SIX (#u0ae5a846-dad6-57c4-95ca-3befd8de88e8)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#uaa5cd9d9-b3e4-5f44-ba0b-02f305898a66)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#ufeb0e1c1-8de2-5b69-a5a8-cd1d0decdd22)
CHAPTER NINE (#uf130dc76-e217-510b-bc5b-94ec14a52759)
CHAPTER TEN (#ud7802390-b33d-5cb0-9fe6-1a0dc546d6d9)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#u72d81043-abb8-54b3-a20a-deb5cd990076)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#u0997fbb0-a33a-515e-b301-174c892eef59)
The Argentinian’s Solace (#ub9e0079a-da21-5114-9bde-c3d9d2e21439)
CHAPTER ONE (#u814e498a-3c92-50b1-b742-d8ef44dd2cd7)
CHAPTER TWO (#u07f6853b-86a4-5d1b-a9ee-6c4b79647e88)
CHAPTER THREE (#u59cde9de-2c2a-5d27-aa2a-8eb371cd0f61)
CHAPTER FOUR (#uab96e6fe-5a11-574e-b0d1-9b25a21e2908)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
A Taste of the Untamed (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
The Man from Her Wayward Past (#litres_trial_promo)
PROLOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Taming the Last Acosta (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Christmas Nights with the Polo Player (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright Page (#litres_trial_promo)
The Shameless Life of Ruiz Acosta (#ulink_a84cbe8a-6533-5e99-ab0c-145f6eaed229)
Susan Stephens
PROLOGUE (#ulink_5ad141e3-2fac-5b2e-96a2-597cf6827985)
STRETCHING out his powerful limbs, Ruiz Acosta took the call from his brother Nacho in Argentina. Gazing out across the sophisticated cityscape through the elegant window of his town house, Ruiz knew he had come to love London as much as the wild reaches of the pampas, if not more. The contrast was extreme and the challenges different, but just as stimulating.
And the women?
Pale, harried, and bundled up in so many clothes it was impossible to imagine them freeing themselves from the many wrappings long enough to make love—
‘Will I be home in time for the annual polo match?’ he asked, refocusing in order to reply to his older brother Nacho’s question. ‘Wild horses wouldn’t keep me from that brawl. Just make sure I have a stallion that can outrun Nero’s fire-breathing monster and I’ll be back in time to watch your flank, Nacho—’
‘And the business?’ the hard male voice interrupted.
‘We’re in pretty good shape. I’ve completed the reorganisation. I just have to approve one or two new members of staff. I’ll be splitting my time between Argentina and London in future, but—’
‘So long as you don’t forget your family on the other side of the world, Ruiz,’ Nacho interrupted. ‘You’re the glue that holds us together—’
‘Glue can stretch,’ Ruiz pointed out wryly.
Not liking this challenge to his authority, Nacho changed tack. ‘Have you heard from Lucia, recently?’
‘Lucia? No. Why?’ Ruiz sat up, hearing the change in his brother’s voice. ‘Is there a problem?’
‘Our sister’s gone off radar again—changed her number—’
‘Lucia was always tricky.’ And who could blame her with four older brothers looking over her shoulder? Ruiz reflected. But his sister’s safety was paramount. ‘I’m on it. I’ll drop by Lucia’s flat later to see if she’s back, or if she left any clues behind.’
Nacho seemed satisfied now he knew Ruiz was picking up the latest family problem; his voice mellowed into a dark-chocolate drawl. ‘Have you found yourself a woman yet?’
Ruiz laughed as someone, or rather something, nuzzled its way between his knees. ‘No, but a dog found me.’ There was a curse on the other end of the line, which Ruiz ignored. ‘This great black mutt wandered in from the street while I was having some furniture delivered and made himself comfortable in front of the fire. Didn’t you, Bouncer?’
‘You’ve given the dog a name?’ Nacho interrupted sharply.
‘Not just a name—a home. Bouncer is part of the furniture now.’ Ruiz ruffled the big dog’s ears.
‘This is so typical of you, Ruiz,’ Nacho rapped, reverting to elder brother mode. ‘You always were a sucker for waifs and strays. If anyone needs TLC, you’re there before they know they need help. Dios! Get rid of the mongrel!’ Nacho thundered.
‘Butt out!’ Ruiz fired back. They weren’t boys now for Nacho to push him around. His brother should know that where animals were concerned Ruiz cut no corners.
‘See you at the polo match,’ Nacho growled, ‘without the mutt!’
‘Goodbye to you too, brother,’ Ruiz murmured, staring at the silent receiver in his hand.
Nacho had issues. Having taken responsibility for his siblings when their parents died, Nacho sometimes forgot they were all adults now and that, having made his home in London rather than the pampas, Ruiz was independently successful.
Sensing his irritation, Bouncer whined. He stroked the dog to reassure him. ‘I should make allowances for Nacho?’ Ruiz queried as Bouncer’s expressive eyes invited him to take a walk. His brother ran an estancia in Argentina the size of a small country and Ruiz supposed Nacho was entitled to have his off days. ‘Okay, boy, you’re right. Let’s go,’ he said, standing up.
A big dog like Bouncer needed hours of exercise. Not unlike his master, Ruiz reflected, catching sight of his swarthy, unshaven face in the mirror. It had been another long and ultimately disappointing night. None of the women he’d met in London appealed to him with their bony figures, heavy make-up, and uniformly dyed blonde hair. It would be fair to say he had become more than a little jaded. Perhaps Nacho was right and he should return to Argentina to find some sophisticated, black-eyed siren, full of the fire and passion of South America who could not only match him in the bedroom but who would share his zest for life.
That was the type of woman his brother Nacho could do with, to shake him out of permanent warrior mode, Ruiz reflected wryly as he locked the front door. It didn’t occur to Ruiz that a similar wake-up call might be waiting for him just around the corner …
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_94735dce-bd58-59eb-ae87-7700259505e0)
I’ve always kept a diary. I’m a compulsive writer some might say. I’ve heard that in the absence of anyone else to confide in people often record their thoughts.
This is day one of my new life in London and my train is just pulling into the station, so I have to keep this short. To make sure everything is in line with the K.I.S.S. principle—which, just in case my journal is discovered a thousand years from now, stands for Keep It Simple Stupid, there are only two rules:
Rely on no one but yourself.
No men—at least, not until you are established as a journalist and can call the shots!
THERE was sleet dripping down her neck and a really old man had just decided Holly was the one who needed help. Was she trying to work out which bus would take her to the station? ‘No, but thank you for asking—I just got here,’ she explained. Chin up. Jaw firm. Smile big. Stop tapping diary notes into your phone and put it away. ‘I’m waiting for a friend,’ Holly added to reassure the elderly Samaritan. Well, it was almost true. She was waiting to get hold of a friend on the phone.
The old man wished her well and went on his way but with the brief moment of human contact snatched away again she felt doubly lost. It was the noise in London, the constant traffic and the mobs of people that took some getting used to when you had just arrived in the capital from a small market town. It didn’t help that her winter coat was soaked right through, she was frozen, and her long red hair hung in sodden straggles down her back.
How could things go so wrong?
It wasn’t as if she hadn’t made the most meticulous plans before coming to London to take up the job at ROCK! magazine, carefully tallying her start date with an amazing offer from her best friend from school to stay in her central London garden flat until Holly could sort out her own accommodation. So how was it that the black cab that had brought her from the station to this faceless part of town had left her in front of a door that should have been flung wide in welcome but had instead been opened by a stranger who didn’t even know her name?
Wiping the rain from her face, Holly pulled out her phone and tried to call her friend Lucia again.
‘Lucia?’ Holly exclaimed excitedly, forced to execute a little unplanned dance as she dodged spray from the traffic. ‘Lucia—Can you hear me?’ Holly yelled over a deafening soundtrack of horns tooting, grinding gears, and steel drums—
Steel drums?
‘Holly!’ Lucia shrieked with equal excitement. ‘Is that really you?’
‘Where are you, Lucia?’
‘St Barts. Can’t you hear the sea? Holly, it’s incredible here. You’d love it—’
‘St Barts in the Caribbean?’ Holly interrupted, shivering as she bowed her head beneath a fresh onslaught of wind and icy sleet. Lucia was from a very wealthy Argentinian family, so anything was possible. ‘Isn’t it some unearthly hour there?’
‘Dunno … Still partying!’ Lucia shrieked as if to confirm this with a thousand friends.
‘So … didn’t you get my text?’ Holly asked carefully.
‘What text?’ Lucia sounded bewildered.
‘The one I wrote confirming I’d love to accept your invitation to stay with you this week until I find a place to live down here?’
‘Breaking up … breaking up.’ Lucia was shrieking with laughter now with her hand over the phone. ‘This line is terrible, Holly,’ she confided in a slurry voice. ‘Why don’t you just catch a plane and come over here?’
Er, zero cash? Zero bikinis? Zero desire to cop out of a life that had already been through the shredder …
Holly held back from explaining to Lucia that they might have attended the same school but, while Holly had been a full scholarship pupil, Lucia had been a new sports hall, an Olympic-sized swimming pool and a riding stables complete with indoor arena. Oh, yes, St Bede’s School for Girls had had a very shrewd headmistress.
‘So, where are you now, Holl?’ Lucia demanded to the accompaniment of clinking glasses.
‘Outside your flat. “Meet u apt 12/20th Nov”,’ Holly read the text from her phone, leaving out the bit about how Lucia ‘cdnt wait’, followed by ‘:-D’ and a dozen exclamation marks.
‘Did I send that?’
‘Yes, but no problem,’ Holly lied brightly.
Lucia groaned. ‘I did! I said it would be okay for you to stay. I remember now. And it is okay. At least, it would be if I were there. And I sublet my part of the house. Oh, you poor darling, I completely forgot. Were they awful to you?’
‘Actually—’
‘But you can book into a hotel, right?’ Lucia chirped before Holly could explain that the woman who had opened the door to her had been quite nice, if a little bewildered to find a stranger with a suitcase standing on her doorstep looking hopeful. ‘Of course I can,’ Holly soothed. ‘I’m really sorry I interrupted your break, Luce—’
‘No. Wait.’
‘What?’
‘The penthouse!’
‘The penthouse?’ Holly queried.
‘The family’s London penthouse is free! I’m sure it is.’
‘The penthouse, where?’ Holly said, frowning.
‘Right there at the same address,’ Lucia explained triumphantly. ‘There’s a spare key in the key box by the side door. Give me ten minutes to ring someone to make sure the penthouse is empty and find out what the code is.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Is the sun shining in St Barts?’ Lucia screamed with laughter. ‘And there’s a café right across the road,’ she said. ‘See it?’ Lucia demanded, tense with excitement now she had identified a way out of the problem. ‘Have a coffee and wait for me to call you—’
Holly stared at her silent phone. Only a member of the powerful Acosta clan could have a penthouse going spare in London, she thought wryly. Putting her phone away, she glanced across the road and saw the café Lucia had mentioned. The windows were all steamed up. It looked inviting, and also warm. But it also looked very smart, Holly thought, losing confidence. The café was all black glass and bronze—the sort of place her boyfriend had frequented between those colossal deals he used to tell her he was brokering.
Her ex-boyfriend, Holly reminded herself as she started jiggling her cumbersome suitcase down the kerb. You didn’t have to be middle-aged and weary to lose everything to a good-looking swindler, Holly had discovered. You could be young and ambitious, and think you knew it all too. But she wasn’t going to let one mistake rule her life. She was going to forget Mr Crud-for-pants dipping his greedy little paws into her bank account, and start again. Right now her goal was reaching that café where she could have a hot drink and dry off while she waited for Lucia to call.
Choosing her moment, Holly launched herself across the road—only for her suitcase to get stuck at the opposite kerb long enough for a truck to drive past and soak her. She was still spluttering with shock when a huge black dog appeared out of nowhere and attempted to lick her dry. And now a hunk in jeans had joined the scrum. ‘Here. Let me,’ he insisted in a deep, husky voice with an intriguing accent. Lifting both dog and suitcase away, he tried to steer Holly off the road.
‘Get off me!’ She was spluttering with shock, her voice rising with each syllable as she attempted to push him away. But he was like a rock and what made it worse was that he was so incredibly good-looking—exotically dark, extremely clean, and very big—which made her feel correspondingly washed-out, mud-streaked, very clumsy, and annoyed.
‘Sorry,’ he exclaimed, turning away to comfort his over-excited dog.
‘Can’t you control your animal?’ she flashed. ‘Perhaps something smaller would be easier for you to handle?’
Holly’s barb missed its mark by a mile. The man only seemed amused and succeeded in looking sexier than ever with his mouth pressed down as she ranted on. ‘Bouncer is a rescue dog from the streets,’ he explained, straightening up to his full, towering height. ‘I still have to teach him manners. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive him?’
The voice was as delicious as she had first thought, and she had stared for far too long into those dark, compelling eyes, Holly warned herself. But instead of standing on her dignity and ending this, she heard herself say, ‘You could buy me a coffee and I’ll think about it.’
‘I could,’ the man agreed.
Had she gone completely mad?
Was Rule two: No men out of the window already?
Hmm, maybe. The man was not only incredibly good-looking—tall, dark and handsome in the best possible way, which was to say a little rugged and not too contrived, with quite a thorough coating of sharp black stubble on his face and excellent teeth—but as well as an exotic accent he had an intriguing way of looking at her. His gaze didn’t flicker away like some people she could mention, but remained steady on her face.
But was that a good enough reason to risk it?
‘May I take your hesitation for acquiescence?’ he prompted. ‘You look frozen.’
She was. And the man’s steady gaze was making her feel uncomfortable. She wasn’t used to attracting interest from such good-looking men. Of course, it would have to happen when she looked more of a mess than usual. Typical. ‘I suppose a coffee wouldn’t hurt.’
‘Strong, hot coffee is what you need,’ he said firmly. ‘But before we go inside, are you going to forgive my furry friend?’
How could she refuse a request like that? Her ex hadn’t been able to get near a dog without it biting him, Holly remembered as the big dog stared back at her, panting hopefully. ‘Forgiven,’ she said, watching with interest as the man made a fuss of his dog, tempting him with a bowl of treats someone had laid out ready beneath the cafe’s rain-proof canopy. He even pointed out the bowl of clean water—
‘Bouncer’s done a real number on your outfit,’ he observed, turning round.
‘Yes, he has,’ Holly admitted ruefully. It wasn’t so much an outfit as a motley collection of sale items she’d kept at the back of the wardrobe too long to take back to the store.
‘How about I pay for dry-cleaning?’
‘Oh, no. That’s okay,’ she insisted. ‘The mud will wash off—’
‘If you’re sure? I’m happy to pay.’
A man offering to pay for anything was a first too, Holly thought. ‘Really, I’m sure,’ she said with a small smile, and then, embarrassed by so much concern and attention from a stranger, she turned away. ‘Hey, Bouncer.’ Predictably falling for the liquid brown sappy look, she started tickling the dog’s ears, which Bouncer took as a cue to roll onto his back, waving his giant-sized paws in the air.
‘You have a way with animals,’ the man observed.
‘When they’re not trying to lick me to death,’ Holly agreed wryly.
‘Shall we?’ he said, starting for the door.
In nothing more exciting than a pair of jeans, scuffed boots and a heavy jacket, he looked exactly like the type of man who could turn a girl’s world upside down. Rebuilding herself after a devastating love affair meant stepping out and stepping up. It did not mean running away. And it was only a coffee.
The guy was so big he made Holly feel dainty as she walked past him, which was another first. She was built on a heroic scale, as her father always reminded her proudly before he gave her that second and rather concerned look—the one she was supposed to miss. But it wasn’t every day a dog could coat her in mud and make her smile, or a man could hold her gaze for longer than two seconds. And at least he was polite, she reasoned as he held the door.
As the warm, coffee-scented air swept out to greet them Holly relaxed her guard enough to brush past him on the way in. The jolt to her senses woke her up and warned her to take more care in future. But it wasn’t as if she was coming on to him, Holly reasoned. He was deeply tanned and film-star striking, while she was pale and not that interesting. But there was some common ground. She felt out of place in London and he looked about as much at home on a grey day in London as a polar bear on a beach—
And about as dangerous.
Once they were inside the café he reached behind the counter and grabbed a towel, which he tossed to her.
‘Well caught,’ he said as she gasped and snatched hold of the towel. ‘May I suggest you wipe the worst of the mud off your clothes?’
‘Won’t they mind?’ Holly said worriedly, throwing a guilty glance at the counter staff.
‘They’ll mind more if you don’t wipe it off before you sit down,’ the man observed, curving his attractive smile again.
Men as good-looking as he was could do as they liked, Holly concluded as she watched him return the towel with a few words of thanks to the staff. There wasn’t one complaint. And why should there be? she thought as he shrugged off his jacket and everyone turned to look. Who wouldn’t want a better view of that body? Holly mused as her gaze roved reluctantly past the well-packed jeans to the crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled back to display a pair of massive forearms. Her day had definitely improved. Until the girls behind the counter started flirting with him and she felt a stab of something unexpected.
And a warning that drew a parallel between this man and her ex. The ex had been good-looking too, and had packed a certain degree of charisma—not pure, one hundred per cent gold star charisma like this man, but enough—until she had scratched the surface and found the base metal underneath—
‘I’ll get the coffee,’ he said, distracting her, ‘while you grab a table.’
She registered a shivery reflex when the man touched her shoulder and was powerless to hide the quiver of awareness that streaked through her. He must have felt it too. He had, Holly concluded, noticing how the steady gaze was now laced with humour. ‘You might want to wipe some of the dirt off your backside before you sit down?’ he murmured discreetly.
The fact that he’d noticed her backside was concerning. Craning her neck, Holly groaned.
‘The ladies’ room is just over there,’ one of the waitresses supplied helpfully.
‘Why don’t you leave your suitcase with me?’
She looked at the man and evaluated her choices. She could leave her belongings with someone she didn’t know, or struggle back through the crowded café with a large case in tow.
‘You can trust me,’ he said, reading her.
And you know what they say about people who tell you you can trust them, Holly thought.
‘In my case it happens to be true,’ he said evenly as if reading her mind were second nature to him.
She left the case.
Trying to ignore the amused glances of the up-market clientele, Holly retraced her steps through the café. As her face heated up under the critical scrutiny she realised that for the short time she’d been with him the man had made her feel good about herself. She didn’t want to sit down in their fancy-pants café anyway. They probably charged twice as much here for a latte as they did at the popular chain down the road—
But rebuilding Holly meant never running away. And was she seriously going to make some pathetic excuse and leave an attractive man in the lurch?
Having cleaned herself up, she returned to find him reading the financial pages with her suitcase stowed safely at his feet. ‘I had to guess what you’d like,’ he said, setting the newspaper down.
‘Skinny latte and a toasted cheese and tomato ciabatta? You’re spoiling me—’
‘No,’ he said bluntly. ‘I was ordering lunch, and I thought you might like some too.’
‘Thank you.’ An honest man was a refreshing change too. ‘It looks delicious …?’
‘Ruiz,’ he supplied, reaching over the table to shake her hand.
‘Holly.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Holly.’
A lightning bolt shot up her arm when they shook hands. And she shouldn’t be staring at him like this. ‘Ruiz?’ she said. ‘I love your name. It’s so unusual.’
‘My mother devoured romantic novels while she was pregnant. Mediterranean heroes?’
‘I was born on Christmas day.’
They laughed.
And now it occurred to her that she couldn’t remember the last time she had relaxed with a man. Laughing at the ex’s jokes was expected, even demanded, but laughing because she was happy only brought accusations that she was braying like a donkey. So she didn’t laugh.
‘Is the coffee okay for you?’ Ruiz said.
She looked at him. ‘Delicious. Thank you.’
He held her gaze with eyes that were warm and interested. She wanted to know more about him. ‘My guess is you’re between seasons and that’s why you’re in London—’
‘Between seasons?’ Ruiz queried, frowning as he sat back. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Ski and surf? The tan, the build …’ The confident swagger that came as standard equipment on a body when a man was in peak condition, she kept to herself.
‘Am I so unusual?’
‘Yes, you are.’ Holly curbed her smile as Ruiz glanced around. He stood out like a very tanned and elegant thumb amongst a room full of stressed-out sore thumbs. ‘But you’ve got a dog with you,’ she said, frowning as she progressed her thoughts, ‘so you must live close by.’
‘Must I?’ Ruiz queried with amusement. ‘Do you always go into this sleuth-mode when you meet someone for the first time?’
‘Sorry—it’s really none of my business.’
‘No harm done, Holly.’
She loved the way he said her name—and at least he had remembered it—not that she was a troll, but if beauty was a matter of millimetres she could do with that extra inch.
Relaxing back in his seat, Ruiz tipped a toast towards her with his cup, which made Holly wonder if she was guilty of becoming too comfortable with a man she knew nothing about just because they were here in this safest of settings. The best thing to do was drink up and leave, she concluded.
‘Hey, where’s the fire?’ Ruiz demanded as she gulped her coffee down.
How could anyone look so dangerous when they smiled? Ruiz’s gaze was dark and experienced—with the emphasis on experienced. Heat curled deep inside her as he curved a sexy smile. ‘I really should be going,’ she said, coming to her senses. Why didn’t her phone ring? What had happened to Lucia?
‘Why the rush?’
‘I thought you’d be pleased to be spared further investigation.’
‘No, I like to hear your musings,’ Ruiz argued. ‘You’ve got a great imagination, Holly. Are you a creative, by any chance?’
‘Advertising? No. I’m hoping to become a journalist,’ she explained, though right now she wondered if she would make it to the first pay cheque. As far as interview technique went she was pants. She still didn’t have a clue about Ruiz—where he came from, what he did—
‘Do you have a job lined up?’
Holly brightened at the thought of it. ‘Yes, I start as a lowly intern on ROCK! magazine on Monday—’
‘ROCK! magazine.’ Ruiz hummed, clearly impressed. ‘Congratulations. It’s not everyone who gets the chance to start their working life in London at the top of the tree.’
‘It’s not that much of a deal,’ Holly admitted. ‘You’ve heard of starting at the bottom? Well, this is the rung below that.’
Ruiz laughed and pushed his coffee cup away. ‘Tell me more,’ he encouraged.
‘I’ve been hired to work as a gofer on the team who write the agony-aunt column. The post is so low-key it’s practically invisible. I’m guessing that as long as my coffee-making technique is up to scratch, I’ll be fine.’
‘Well, at least you’re doing your research,’ Ruiz pointed out, adopting a mock-serious expression as he glanced at their empty cups.
Holly laughed. ‘What about you?’ She blushed as Ruiz angled his chin to stare at her. ‘I’m sorry. I’m doing it again, aren’t I?’ she said. ‘You must think I’m rude asking you all these questions when we’ve only just met.’
‘No,’ Ruiz argued. ‘I think you’re a cute kid.’
Ouch.
‘I think you’ll make an excellent journalist one day.’
‘Is that a polite way of saying nosey’s in my genes?’
‘No. It means you’re interested in the world and those around you,’ Ruiz observed.
She wasn’t going to argue with him—especially as Holly’s world had just shrunk to the size of their table.
‘So, Holly-would-be-journalist, just for the record, I do love skiing and riding the waves, so you were right as far as that goes, but bumming around the world is not what I do.’
‘What is?’
Touching his nose, Ruiz grinned. ‘Look at it this way. Your interview technique can only get better from here on in.’
It would have to, Holly thought wryly, or she’d have nothing to write about. ‘Well, thank you for allowing me to try it out on you.’
‘Don’t mention it,’ Ruiz said with amusement, sexy lips pressing down.
And just as Holly was wondering how she could ever bear to look away and bring this folly to an end the waitress handed them the bill.
The café was filling up, the girl explained with an apologetic shrug, and they needed the table.
‘It’s lunchtime and people are keen to get out of the rain,’ Holly agreed, already on her feet. She had taken up enough of Ruiz’s time. She made a grab for the bill, but he was too fast for her. ‘My treat, remember?’ he said. ‘And if you change your mind about the dry-cleaning …’
‘I won’t.’ And then finally, as she extended the handle on her suitcase, Holly’s phone rang.
‘Let me help you,’ Ruiz suggested as she attempted to juggle her belongings and the phone.
Checking the number with relief, she answered and said quickly, ‘Can you give me a minute?’ Then holding the phone to her chest, she put Ruiz off as politely as she could. ‘That’s okay, honestly. I’ve got it. Sorry.’
‘You’re sorry again?’ Ruiz murmured dryly, the attractive crease down his cheek reappearing as he smiled. ‘You spend a lot of time being sorry, Holly …’
She didn’t know what to say to that, and stared at him, hoping she would remember that dark, compelling stare as well as the last delicious punch to her senses that came with it. ‘Bye, Ruiz. Thank you for lunch.’
‘Goodbye, Holly,’ he called after her as she raced outside to take Lucia’s call.
Lucia rattled off five numbers. ‘Got it?’ Lucia demanded.
‘Got it,’ Holly confirmed, her heart still pounding from the last moments with Ruiz.
‘You sound out of breath,’ Lucia observed suspiciously. ‘I didn’t interrupt anything important, did I?’
‘Not the sort of anything you’ve got in mind,’ Holly protested, laughing. ‘The café you recommended was just so noisy I had to run outside to take your call.’
‘Just so long as you remember the numbers.’
‘I will,’ Holly promised, reciting the code Lucia had given her. So the great adventure begins, she thought, staring up at the impressive Palladian mansion across the street.
Nice. Very nice—if a little unsophisticated for his taste, but variety was the spice of life, Ruiz reminded himself as he strode back to his town house with Bouncer in tow. Would he see her again, or would Holly simply disappear into the great melting pot of the metropolis? He liked her a lot. In fact, he couldn’t remember a woman making such a strong impression on him in so short a time. Perhaps it was because she made him laugh, or was it that clear green gaze he had found so open and expressive? He could even remember the scent she had used—fresh, citrusy, with just a hint of vanilla. He liked her mouth too—especially when she bit down on the swell of her bottom lip as if that would stop her asking him any more questions. And when she smiled—
‘Hey, Bouncer, you liked her, didn’t you?’ Soulful eyes turned his way, reminding him he had to find a solution for Bouncer before he returned to Argentina for the polo match …
No. Forget it. That would never work. The idea was ridiculous. He hardly knew Holly and the chances of ever seeing her again were remote. Though he couldn’t help wishing he might, Ruiz realised.
Oblivious to the filthy weather, he turned in through the gates of the park. It wasn’t the pampas but at least it was a big green space in the middle of the city where the big dog could enjoy some sort of freedom. When Bouncer had first wandered into his life he had intended to turn him over to the police, but when the moment had arrived he hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it, and so he’d reported Bouncer missing and taken him home. They’d been together ever since. There had to be some sort of reward for a dog who had sensed an animal lover in a world of pet-free pavements, Ruiz reflected as he reached for the ball he’d stuffed in his pocket. Firing the ball across the park, he had to admit his brother Nacho was right—Ruiz shouldn’t have taken the big dog on, only to keep him confined in London.
‘Time is running out for us, boy,’ he told Bouncer when the dog came bounding back. Ruiz shot the ball again, and felt his heart jag when Bouncer, having joyfully snatched it up, came racing back to him. Was it wrong to hope fate would smile on them? Ruiz reflected as the big dog dropped the ball at his feet. And then he remembered Holly and wondered if it already had.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_2e3ed5ce-bba3-5b09-88bd-bf6402dc0870)
London Diary:
If at first you don’t succeed—
GIVE UP
No!
No. That wasn’t what she meant to write at all.
So. Delete that and start again.
Okay …
You’d think it would be seventh heaven living in the Acosta family penthouse with all that space, state-of-the-art gizmos, and furnishings courtesy of a top interior designer, but actually it means not using anything in the kitchen in case you scratch, burn, or break it. And don’t get me started on the bathroom. Basically, I’m fed up with tiptoeing around. I might be living in the city, but I’m still a countrygirl at heart. *Think* Bigfoot with ten carrier bags on each arm blundering through the glass department at Harrods—and you’re still not even close. And then there’s the job at ROCK! Working at the hottest magazine in town should be a dream come true, right? Wrong. Things really couldn’t get any worse—until you come to my love life.
Love life still zero, though lustful thoughts are on the up, thanks to the man I met at the café called Ruiz, who looks like a sex god and who thinks I’m a ‘cute kid’.
Oh, good. I am a twenty-three-year-old ‘kid’ with breasts and a Brazilian.
The wax?
I always was the glass-half-full type of girl, and judging by the pressure on the front of Ruiz’s jeans he could fill that glass very nicely indeed.
Not that she was looking for a boyfriend, but her readers didn’t need to know that where Holly was concerned it was a case of once bitten for ever shy. She had to light up the page not dwell on her mistakes, because it was all going wrong at ROCK! The job that should have been perfect for her, where she could be involved in things that mattered by working on the agony-aunt column, in however lowly a position, was on the line. She stared at the latest e-mail memo on her screen; it seemed she was about to be booted before she even got a chance to prove what she could do.
Latest figures dire. Agony column doomed unless reader numbers improve significantly. Need a diary feature to head the column—something juicy. Go, team! And remember: last in, first out. That means you, Holly.
Forcing her chin up, Holly flashed a promise-to-do-better smile at the staffer who had circulated the mail. What was Holly supposed to do to make things better—unless readers would be interested in the incredible -disappearing-sock story, or perhaps the find-a-white-bra-amidst-the-various-shades-of-grey scoop?
‘I’m on it,’ Holly assured the staffer on her way out of the office that night, adopting a seriously concerned expression. She was seriously concerned—for her job.
The staffer managed an even more seriously concerned expression. ‘Don’t want to lose you, Holly, but …’
The staffer was right. The column was dead unless someone came up with an idea fast.
Hiding behind other people’s problems instead of risking another Holly-picks-the-wrong-man-again screw-up had been an attractive proposition when she’d first come down to London, Holly reflected as she walked briskly through the Christmas shopping crowds to the bus stop. But now all she wanted was to take her new life by the scruff of the neck and make a success of it. Her days of hiding behind anything were over. And with no reader letters to answer hiding behind other people’s problems wasn’t an option, anyway. The sticking point with the failing agony-aunt column was that no one cared any more—people just moved on to the next relationship. It was uncool to admit you needed advice. She had to come up with something novel. If she failed she’d be back at that door with the peeling paintwork and steel mesh security panel to prevent it being kicked in, otherwise known as her first job disaster.
She’d been straight out of college and green as a cabbage when she rocked up at Frenzy, a well known magazine. Well-ish known, Holly amended, hailing a bus. She had thought herself really lucky to have such an exciting opportunity straight out of college, in what had turned out to be a badly lit call centre. ‘I’m supposed to be on the features desk?’ she had explained to the old man in carpet slippers who’d shown her around. It had turned out Holly’s desk was a length of chipped and yellowing plywood facing a peeling wall and she was to share said desk with around twenty other girls. The girls had been too busy speaking on the phone to notice Holly’s arrival, and at first she hadn’t been able to figure out why they were all working from dog-eared scripts and panting into microphones—until her mind had flicked rapidly through the pages of the magazine. Frenzy was quite raunchy, though nothing out of the ordinary until you came to the back pages where there were a lot of ads for services like Personal Tarot Readings, Massage By Britain’s Strongest Woman, or Chat To Chantelle In Perfect Confidence—
Oh …
‘Erm … I’d like to see my supervisor, please.’
And that had been the end of that.
She definitely wasn’t going back to some telephone sex dungeon, Holly determined as she arrived at the penthouse—or Acosta heaven, as she had come to think of her temporary lodgings. She was going to stay at ROCK! and make a success of the job she had. Once through the door, she carefully removed her shoes to preserve the immaculate gleam of the highly polished wooden floor. Shrugging her coat off, she draped it on a chair, shooting her bag, briefcase, newspaper, magazines and scarf into the mix. Just think. If she made a success of her career as a journalist she could own something like this herself one day …
Dream on, Holly thought, turning full circle in the huge marble-tiled hall. A vaulted glass ceiling with a fabulous view of the stars glittered overhead, while life-sized Roman busts that might have been originals from antiquity for all she knew stood on pedestals either side of the huge double doors. Not only was the cost of a place like this far beyond Holly’s wildest dreams, she would also have to learn how not to be clumsy. A lesson too far, perhaps? No wonder she felt on edge amidst this splendour—one sneeze and she could be bankrupt for life. But for now the penthouse was home, so she might as well make the most of it. Tonight was green face mask night. She did all her best thinking in the bath, so this soak was set to be a long one.
* * *
Fate played strange tricks sometimes, Ruiz thought, frowning thoughtfully as he put the phone down and sat back. After he’d been searching high and low for his sister, Lucia had called him up out of the blue, unprompted. He might have known if it was a question of loyalty to a friend, Lucia would break cover immediately. There had been a swift exchange of information and a deal had been brokered between them. Like Nacho, Ruiz was keen for his kid sister to make use of her qualifications rather than to waste her time hanging around the party circuit. Lucia would return to the real world if he agreed to maintain his silence on her current whereabouts. ‘But get home fast. On the next flight,’ he stressed.
‘So you don’t mind my friend Holly staying at the penthouse?’
‘Not at all.’ Fate was definitely playing into his hands, Ruiz reflected while Bouncer murmured with contentment as he rearranged his massive furry body on Ruiz’s feet. Apart from the dog’s future looking a whole lot rosier, Ruiz had asked enough questions to establish that the Holly he had met at the café and had felt an instant connection with was the same friend his sister had forgotten she had invited to stay. Confirmation of this had elicited several squeals of excitement from Lucia when she realised he had already met her best friend, while he was more than looking forward to a return match with Holly. And as for making up for his sister’s oversight—
‘There’s just one thing, Ruiz,’ Lucia said, interrupting these thoughts.
‘Which is?’ he prompted.
‘I gave Holly the impression that she would have the penthouse to herself.’
‘How was I supposed to know my town house would flood?’
‘Of course you couldn’t know, but—’
‘I need somewhere to stay,’ he pointed out. ‘My town house is within walking distance of the penthouse, so it makes perfect sense for me to stay there while the repairs are being carried out. I can keep an eye on the builders that way. Your friend Holly will just have to make room for me.’ Lucia knew as well as he that the penthouse had more than enough bedrooms and could comfortably fit a medium-sized house within its walls.
‘I’m sure she will,’ Lucia insisted. ‘I’m just asking you to be diplomatic, Ruiz.’
‘Aren’t I always?’
‘Er, no,’ his sister said.
‘There’s a first time for everything, Lucia.’
‘Yeah, right.’
‘Is that it?’ he asked impatiently.
‘Play nice, Ruiz.’
That was easy. ‘I promise.’
‘Not too nice,’ Lucia added, concern returning to her voice. ‘Please try to remember that Holly is a good friend of mine.’
‘How could I forget?’ he said dryly. ‘Come on, Bouncer,’ he prompted. ‘I bet there’s a brand-new sofa at the penthouse for you to chomp on.’ There was certainly a female interest for Ruiz.
Scenting change in the air, Bouncer lifted his head to look at him. ‘You’re right,’ Ruiz agreed. ‘What are we waiting for? Let’s get moved in.’
* * *
This was the first time she had relaxed properly since arriving in London, Holly realised as she settled back in the deliciously scented foam bath. It was the first time she had trialled a bright green face pack also. Attempting to move her mouth, she quickly forgot the idea in case the face pack cracked. She also had a gloopy oil treatment on her hair and cooling discs of cucumber balanced precariously on her face to soothe her resting eyes. All these preparations were essential for clearing her mind ready for the Great Idea to drop in. It was a little worrying that so far no idea, great or otherwise, had shown the slightest inclination to drop by—
What was that?
Shooting up in alarm when she heard the front door opening, she snatched the cucumber from her eyes, switched off the bubbles and remained still, listening.
When she recognised the voice of the intruder she cracked the face pack.
What the hell was he doing here?
And should she be in any doubt at all as to the identity of the intruder a big dog was barking excitedly.
* * *
He hammered on the bathroom door. What the hell was Holly doing? He had arrived at the penthouse with all sorts of images in his mind—Holly freshly showered and scented, with her hair clean and gleaming, falling in soft waves around her shoulders, Holly with rosy cheeks instead of frozen-to-the marrow cheeks, her green eyes in harmony with the big smile on her welcoming face. He had not expected to discover that Holly appeared to be holding a garage sale in the hall—or to trip over the handles of her briefcase. Having expended some of his irritation in a few, well-chosen words, he now discovered she was in the bath.
This wasn’t going to plan. What was he supposed to do now?
‘Open this door now,’ he commanded.
What should she do? Holly wondered, still cowering in the bath. Ruiz from the café was threatening to break the door down. This didn’t make any sense. Who was he? Some kind of crazy? Had he followed her? More importantly, was he dangerous? ‘Where did you get the key?’ she yelled out.
‘From the key box,’ he yelled back.
‘And the code?’ she said suspiciously.
‘From my sister.’
‘Your sister?’ Holly’s brain went into overdrive, and then crashed.
‘My sister, Lucia Acosta,’ Ruiz shouted through the door.
Yes, she’d got that far.
So Ruiz was one of the notorious Acosta brothers. Holly had never met Lucia’s playboy brothers so couldn’t claim to know much about them, but she did know they were polo-playing bad boys, who, according to Lucia, rode rampage through the world’s women as well as their opponents on the field of play. ‘And what are you doing here?’ she demanded, swishing bubbles over her naked bits.
‘More questions, Holly?’
He could laugh at a time like this?
‘Why don’t you come out of the bathroom and speak to me face to face?’ Ruiz challenged.
Yes, she would, Holly determined, firming her jaw. She wasn’t going to cower in the bath. The house might belong to the Acosta family, but Lucia had been very clear when she had told Holly that the penthouse was empty and that Holly could have exclusive use of it until she found somewhere else to live. Lucia hadn’t mentioned brothers barging in without warning. ‘Shouldn’t you be in Argentina playing polo?’ she countered, playing for time as she turned the shower on to rinse the gunk out of her hair
‘I live and work in London,’ Ruiz called back. ‘Will you be long?’
‘As long as it takes.’ Did her nipples have to respond with such a ridiculous amount of interest to Ruiz’s shiver-inducing drawl?
Snagging a robe from the hook on the back of the door, she prepared to confront him. Belting it tightly, she reminded herself that new Holly didn’t run away, and that new Holly stayed to fight her corner. Braced for battle, she swung the door wide. They stood confronting each other for a moment and then Ruiz began to laugh. ‘What?’ Holly demanded. It was only when her frown deepened and bits of green gunk started dropping onto the floor that she realised she had forgotten to rinse the face mask off. With an imperious tilt to her chin, she backed into the bathroom and closed the door.
‘Would you like me to come back later?’ Ruiz jibed through the door.
Holly responded with something unrepeatable that only made him laugh. She quickly washed the face mask off with ice-cold water. She needed a shock to get over seeing Ruiz again. He shouldn’t be so stunning. It wasn’t fair.
‘Perhaps you’d like more time to compose yourself?’ Ruiz growled through the door.
‘I’m ready to see you any day of the week,’ she assured him, flinging it open. Okay, but maybe not today, Holly conceded as Ruiz gave her a lazy twice-over.
‘Something bothering you?’ he enquired.
‘I’m perfectly calm,’ she said as her cheeks fired red.
Ruiz met this with a sceptical huff. ‘Even when I tell you I’m planning to move in?’
‘You can’t move in!’ Holly exclaimed.
‘Can’t?’ Ruiz queried laconically.
‘Of course not. I’m living here,’ Holly protested indignantly.
‘So …?’ Ruiz shrugged.
‘So Lucia said I could have sole use of the penthouse until I find somewhere else to live, and—’
‘And do you have a contract to this effect?’ He was beginning to feel more like the big, bad wolf than the brother of Holly’s best friend. He was used to sophisticated women who knew the score, rather than girls like Holly, and was torn between indulging her and kissing the breath out of her lungs. Only Lucia’s plea that he should be on his best behaviour stood between them.
‘No, of course I don’t have a contract,’ she was protesting. ‘How can I when Lucia’s in—when Lucia’s away,’ she amended, clearly uncertain as to how much he knew about his sister’s whereabouts. ‘We have a verbal agreement.’
‘My sister acts on impulse sometimes,’ Ruiz agreed, easing confidently onto one hip.
He admired Holly’s loyalty and could only imagine how it might be having Lucia as a friend. This felt like new territory to Ruiz. His strategy had already gone out of the window. Then he was distracted by something flimsy and pink on the floor and noticed Holly’s face had turned a deeper shade of pink when she saw him looking at it. She quickly toed away the racy thong. ‘Lucia must have warned you I was coming?’ he pressed. ‘I can’t imagine my sister didn’t call you.’
‘Probably a thousand times,’ Holly agreed, no doubt imagining her best friend’s panic. ‘But my phone is in the bedroom.’
She saw the tension in Ruiz’s shoulders relax a little, but as he slowly looked her up and down Holly was sure that lazy gaze could easily penetrate anything as mundane as towelling.
‘Well, I’m here now. So I advise you to get used to it, Holly. May I suggest you get dressed while I go and settle Bouncer in?’
‘Bouncer?’ Holly exclaimed. She couldn’t hide the panic in her voice. ‘Is it wise to bring Bouncer in here?’ The damage the big dog could do to all the treasures in the penthouse didn’t bear thinking about.
‘Would you prefer me to leave him on the street?’
‘No, of course not, but—’
‘Or put him into kennels while my town house is being repaired?’
‘That would only distress him. You told me he’s a rescue dog.’
‘Precisely,’ Ruiz interrupted. He was serious for a moment, and then his expression changed to one Holly didn’t like at all. ‘I imagine Bouncer could have a field day in here unless he was properly supervised …’
‘I agree,’ she said. She didn’t like Ruiz’s tone, but it did seem as if he might have seen the light where the dangers of breakages were concerned.
‘But with you to watch him while I’m away—’
‘Me?’ Holly exclaimed. ‘You can’t go away and leave Bouncer with me.’
Recognising his name, Bouncer, no doubt remembering the fuss Holly had given him the first time they met, padded over to the bathroom door and sat at her feet. What was she supposed to do? Ignore him? Bending down, she gave the dog a proper welcome, which Bouncer took as his cue to clean her all over again.
‘Look how pleased he is to see you,’ Ruiz said in a coaxing tone that set more alarm bells than ever ringing. ‘How can you possibly turn him away?’
Holly sighed, but the look she reserved for Ruiz was not at all kind-hearted. He got the special hard look she was working on to deter those who thought they could put one over on new Holly. Ruiz responded to this with the lift of one ebony brow and a look that reminded Holly that, unlike his dog, Ruiz was dangerous. The Acosta brothers were notorious playboys with hair-raising reputations, and like Lucia, they inhabited a very different world from Holly.
So? Keep your nerve and fight fire with fire.
‘Bouncer,’ Holly murmured fondly, choosing to ignore the dog’s master for now. ‘Are you looking for a little mayhem?’ Gazing up, she threw the gauntlet straight back in Ruiz’s face. ‘You are? Good boy. There’s a lot of scope for you here.’ Game on.
The look Ruiz gave her now made Holly’s heart beat a rapid tattoo. She should have remembered that Ruiz Acosta was an international sportsman who liked nothing better than a challenge, and in spite of her tough talk Holly’s self-confidence was as fragile as a sugar strand. Making her handsome parents proud of their unaccountably plain daughter by winning a full scholarship to a prestigious school had been one of the high spots of Holly’s life, until she’d discovered how the other, more privileged girls had felt about it. It was only when Lucia, easily the most envied girl in the school, had palled up with her that Holly’s confidence had slowly returned. Well, that sugar strand had just snapped and now she was steeped in self-doubt again.
‘I’m going to have a beer and then I’m going to the gym,’ Ruiz said. ‘Make sure you’ve cleared up your mess by the time I get back.’
Yes, master. Holly’s face burned red, but for once she remained sensibly silent.
Please don’t hurry back, Holly thought, catching her breath against the bathroom door. She needed time to think. She could hear Ruiz moving about in the kitchen, but for a moment she did nothing, thought nothing, barely breathed, until, pulling herself round, she came to exactly the same conclusion: this wasn’t going to work. Living with a playboy when she was still recovering from the most disastrous love affair of all time? How could she share the same space as a man as brazenly masculine and as unswervingly domineering as Ruiz Acosta? If Ruiz was moving in, she was moving out—
And that was exactly what she would have done had not sensible Holly chosen that moment to intervene and remind flustered Holly that she would still have to sort out alternative accommodation first, and that in the meantime she had no alternative other than to get along with Ruiz. Let’s face it, she thought our paths don’t even need to cross in a penthouse this size.
‘Can we just get one thing straight?’ she said to Ruiz, entering the kitchen after having thrown on her fat jeans, as opposed to her I’ve-lost-weight jeans, together with her oldest, most comfortable shirt. She had left her hair to dry naturally, and bother the make-up—she wasn’t interested in men. She merely wanted to catch Ruiz before he left for the gym and set a few things straight.
He paused with the bottle of beer hovering close to his mouth.
Sexy mouth …
Concentrate, Holly told herself firmly. They had to get things out in the open if living together stood any chance of working.
‘Yes?’ Ruiz prompted.
Did he have to have such gorgeous eyes? Did he have to angle that stubble-shaded chin to stare at her? Did his mouth have to curve in that infectious and very dangerous smile? ‘When you say you’re going away,’ she said, feeling her throat dry as she forced her gaze somewhere to the west of Ruiz’s left ear, ‘don’t you mean going away as in flying to Argentina to play polo with your brothers?’
‘That will be my next trip,’ Ruiz confirmed, his dark eyes watchful.
‘So this isn’t just the occasional weekend we’re talking about—this is full-on adoption of a huge, lollopy dog.’
‘Temporary guardianship,’ Ruiz corrected her, ‘of my dog.’
He made it sound like a royal command—a privilege. And if there hadn’t been such a lovely dog involved …
Ruiz showed no shame, Holly concluded. ‘You’re going to leave Bouncer at the penthouse I’ve been cautiously tiptoeing around. May I remind you that Bouncer has a huge fluffy tail and four big feet?’
‘Your feet are lovely,’ Ruiz observed, completely taking the wind out of her sails.
He wasn’t supposed to say things like that and sound as if he meant it. Now all she could think about was the fact that she hadn’t put shoes on because she’d been in too much of a hurry to speak to Ruiz before he went out.
Concentrate, Holly told herself fiercely as Ruiz curved a questioning smile. There was no point giving him any more satisfaction than she already had. ‘What you’re suggesting,’ she hissed in a low, urgent voice as if Bouncer could understand them, ‘is a licence for carnage.’ Couldn’t she create enough of that on her own? Holly reasoned. She was just recoiling from the mental image of the type of carnage Bouncer could create when The Idea dropped in.
No one said it was going to arrive at the most convenient time, Holly reasoned as Ruiz began to frown. ‘What now?’ she prompted.
‘I was just thinking that it’s not like you to be silent for so long. You are feeling okay, aren’t you?’ Holly’s warning look only succeeded in making Ruiz’s eyes glow a little brighter. ‘Anyway,’ he added offhandedly, ‘I’m going out.’
But she wanted to float her idea. ‘No, wait.’
‘Missing me already?’ Ruiz suggested with maximum irony.
‘Not one bit,’ she snapped. ‘In fact, please don’t feel you must hurry back.’
This provoked a crooked smile that lodged attractively in Ruiz’s stubble-darkened cheek. ‘I love it when a plan comes together, don’t you?’ he said. And when Holly gritted her teeth in order not to say something she would regret, he added, ‘I understand you’d probably like a little time to prepare yourself properly for my return.’
‘Prepare myself properly?’ Holly exploded. ‘Who do you think you are? The Sheikh of Araby? I was merely pondering the possibility of doing some work without any further interruption,’ she assured him primly.
‘Oh, come on, Holly,’ Ruiz murmured. ‘You and I both know that too much work and no play will make you a very dull girl indeed. See you after the gym?’ he said, his eyes dark and dangerous.
‘I can’t wait,’ Holly called after him sarcastically. Living with a playboy wouldn’t be easy, but at least Ruiz had given her The Idea.
Bravo! Holly-the-journalist!
Except … there was one small problem. She already knew Ruiz didn’t like Holly poking her nose into his business.
But what was he going to do—refuse her offer to dog-sit in London while he was playing polo in Argentina? She didn’t think so. She’d seen the glint in Ruiz’s eyes. He’d gone in hard, thinking she would quickly fall into line. He had expected her to offer to help him in any way she could. Well, she might—on one condition that Ruiz helped her too. He must give her some titbits to write about. If he did, living with a playboy might not be so bad after all. In fact, it might just save her bacon. The column she had in mind would be an observational piece—meaning she could safely witness the life of a playboy while remaining at a prudent distance. This would be like confronting her demons from behind a screen. To save her career she would lift the lid on living with a playboy for her readers. Why shouldn’t everyone else laugh at her trials and tribulations? She did.
* * *
Slinging his gym bag over his shoulder, he left his luggage in the hall and stormed out of the penthouse. The only solution, Ruiz had concluded, was to pound his way out of frustration. Having been knocked for six—or was that sex?—by the sight of Holly with her glorious redgold hair streaming around her shoulders like a gleaming cape, Holly half naked with her creamy flesh just visible above the robe, he was painfully threatening to burst out of his jeans. In that respect, she had exceeded his expectations. Truthfully? He had never felt like this before. If Holly had been staying in Lucia’s garden apartment he could have just about coped, but having her stay with him at the penthouse only yards from his bed?
Gritting his teeth, Ruiz lifted his own body weight above his head, but nothing helped to blank out the voluptuous woman waiting for him back at the penthouse. And hard as he tried he could find no solution to the problem. He wouldn’t touch a friend of Lucia’s. He couldn’t eject a friend of Lucia’s from the penthouse, either. So must he put his own life on hold? He could hardly entertain while Holly was in residence. Lowering the bar slowly back into its cups, he made a silent pledge not to go near her. He could only hope for Holly’s sake that she found somewhere else to live as soon as she could.
He had left Bouncer with the girls on Reception where his faithful hound was sure to get a spoiling. The dog bounded up to him, seeming as excited as he was at the prospect of returning home.
Not excited, Ruiz told himself firmly. Certainly not excited to get back to the penthouse and find Holly waiting for him. It had been a long, hard day, and when he opened the door on what was supposed to be a luxurious hideaway in the best part of London, there would be girl stuff everywhere. No doubt the kitchen would be a mess, and, having seen the state of the hall, he had no doubt Holly would have trialled every bathroom by the time he got back, strewing damp towels all over the place. All he longed for was a good night’s sleep, but with a big dog to care for checking into a hotel was out of the question. The penthouse, with its stunning views of London and seductive luxury, should have been perfect, and it might have been, had he not had an unexpected—and frustratingly unsettling—lodger to entertain.
Okay, so he’d set some ground rules.
‘Come on, Bouncer,’ Ruiz prompted, snapping the leash onto the dog’s collar. ‘Let’s get this over with.’
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_ce39fad8-3cc2-5919-b753-4a025e88c5d3)
Research. And that’s all it would be. I wouldn’t be breaking rule two—no men. I would simply be observing this man from a purely clinical point of view. My ‘Living with a Playboy’ idea would be like one of those fly-on-the-wall documentaries. I wouldn’t be hands-on—I should be so lucky. More, all hands to the pump—gulp—as I try to do my bit to save the agony-aunt column. (Though I can’t deny the thought of living so close to this particular playboy has done wonders for my metabolic rate. I’ve eaten a whole tub of double chocolate chip in anticipation of his return and I can still get into my jeans.)
(Imagine how slim I’d be if we lived together permanently.)
(Not that I’d ever consider living with anyone after my experience with the ex.)
Love life? Vicarious. Active. Very active indeed. Lustful thoughts? Are there any other kind?
And the playboy? This might all be over by tomorrow. He didn’t exactly seem thrilled to see me, and I have yet to discover how he feels when he returns from the gym to find I’m still here.
HAVING finished her London diary entry, Holly was still tinkering with her first ‘Living with a Playboy’ feature when Ruiz arrived back. The new headline looked fabulous on the top of the agony-aunt column. If that didn’t attract reader interest, nothing would.
She listened as Ruiz went into one of the bathrooms to take a shower and tried her hardest not to imagine him stripped naked. That proved a lot harder than she’d thought. The secret of successful cohabiting was not getting in Ruiz’s way, Holly concluded, tensing as the shower turned off. If she was going to make a success of the ‘Living with a Playboy’ feature, she had to make sure Ruiz didn’t think of her as a nuisance, always watching him and asking questions. She wasn’t in any danger, she told herself repeatedly, counting the seconds until he entered the room, since she had vowed off men, and anyway there was no chance Ruiz would look at her that way. The main thing was not to give him an excuse to throw her out if she was going to make him the subject of her column.
Buttering-up time had arrived. While he’d been gone she had tidied away all her things and knocked up a tasty soup, using the fresh ingredients she had bought earlier. She’d also made sure there was plenty of ice for the large gin and tonic she guessed a sophisticated man like Ruiz might want, and had even put on some make-up—not very expertly, and certainly not enough to suggest she was after him. She hoped that assuming the role of unthreatening temporary lodger might work. She would even play housekeeper at a stretch. She’d do anything to salvage her career. She’d even iron a few shirts if she had to. She couldn’t see any man objecting to that. Whatever it took for Ruiz to agree to become the subject of her column, Holly told herself tensely, flinging herself down in front of her laptop when she heard him advancing on the kitchen.
Living with a Playboy
Well, here I am, living the dream—or nightmare—not sure which it’s going to be yet. I should know more if I survive these next few minutes.
I don’t think I could have engineered living with a playboy. Who could, unless they wanted to be a rich man’s plaything? And I can’t say that’s ever appealed to me. But I will do my best to keep a roof over my head until I can make alternative arrangements. I don’t particularly like myself for being so cold-blooded about this, but it’s the only solution I can see to keep my job right now.
To make up for my scheming I’m going to be the best housemate anyone could have—at least, that’s what I keep telling myself. But the first time the playboy brings home a playmate I’m guessing I might show another side of myself altogether. It’s not that I’m interested in him, and he certainly isn’t interested in me. This is all in the line of duty, and—
Lowering the lid on her laptop, Holly arranged her face in a welcoming smile and stood up to greet Ruiz. Enter Ruiz: dark, glowering, massively powerful, and stunningly attractive. ‘Hello,’ Holly said brightly. ‘I hope you had a good session at the gym?’
As Ruiz angled his head slightly to stare at her Holly realised she would never be able to keep this up. Faced by so much pumped and bulging muscle and with his thick black hair still damp from his shower, she knew she couldn’t live with Ruiz as a passive observer without going completely off her head. ‘Drink?’ she enquired. Was that piping voice really hers? ‘Gin and tonic, perhaps …?’
‘A beer would be good.’
‘Beer it is, then.’
‘You’re unusually compliant, Holly,’ Ruiz observed, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
She made a dismissive gesture. ‘I’m just feeling a little guilty that I didn’t make the connection between you and Lucia right away. When we first met at the café?’ she prompted.
‘I didn’t make the connection either,’ Ruiz pointed out. ‘And Lucia told you what exactly about her brothers?’
Holly blushed. The thought of even the smallest part of what Lucia had told her about her brothers was enough to make the hair stand up on the back of her neck. ‘You must be stressed out and tired,’ she said to change the subject, ‘and frustrated that you haven’t got the private space you anticipated, but—’
‘Breathe,’ Ruiz suggested dryly.
Ruiz’s dark gaze washed over her in a way that made her bones melt. She had dressed carefully—demurely—on purpose, Holly realised now, in a pair of baggy jeans and a shapeless old shirt, so as not to draw attention. She suspected Ruiz knew exactly what she’d done, and that he also knew she was suffering a very female response to his extremely masculine assessment.
‘Where’s that beer you promised me?’
Maybe this subservient domestic goddess role was going to be a little harder than she thought, Holly reflected, realising she was still gazing at Ruiz. ‘Coming right up,’ she said, forcing her feet to walk away.
Her hands were shaking by the time she got to the fridge and her heart was beating like Thor’s hammer. How on earth was this going to play out? Her bright idea of making a column out of living with a playboy didn’t seem so clever now. Being sneaky didn’t suit her, and a high-flyer like Ruiz would hardly want Holly sharing details of his private life with the general public. But she had to live somewhere. She had to earn a living. And this was the best, the only idea she had come up with to date.
‘Thank you.’ His gaze lingered on Holly as he took the beer. He’d run the shower on its lowest setting to try and knock some sense into his head, but innocence was a potent drug. He noticed her hands were shaking and guessed Holly was still reeling from the messy relationship Lucia had told him about and didn’t trust her judgment where men were concerned. No problem for him. He could resist the lure of an unexpected visitor, however attractive she might be.
‘Are you hungry, Ruiz?’
The punch to his solar plexus when she turned to look at him caught him by surprise. ‘Starving.’
‘You’re in a better mood since you got back from the gym,’ she observed as she vigorously stirred the soup.
‘Yes, dear,’ he mocked her lightly.
‘And here was me thinking you might have knocked some of that frustration out of your system at the gym.’ She blushed and stopped talking abruptly, but he knew she was referring to his ill-tempered arrival at the penthouse.
Lifting the bottle in a toast to her back, he drank it down. He had dressed casually after his shower in a pair of jeans and an old, faded blue sweatshirt, which he felt comfortable in around the house. Holly was barefoot in jeans and a pale blue shirt, which he found both casual and appealing. She was wearing hardly any make-up and had a tea towel tucked into the waistband of her jeans like someone who loved cooking and didn’t care who knew it. She looked great. The pale blue shirt suited her, and he had to try very hard not to notice that it was straining over her breasts.
‘Sure soup is going to be enough for you?’ she asked, avoiding his gaze.
‘For now.’
Opening the fridge, he found it stocked with fresh ingredients and a line of cold beer. ‘Soup smells good,’ he observed, joining Holly at the cooker. ‘I usually call for take-away when I’m in London, unless I’m eating out—’ He was staring at the back of her neck, longing to drop kisses on it. She had brushed her hair to one side, leaving the soft skin temptingly exposed, and he was standing close enough to see it had the texture of a peach. ‘Are you sure you want to share your supper?’ he murmured, thinking of anything but soup.
‘I can’t drink the whole pan full myself.’ She turned to stare at him.
‘I’ll get some spoons,’ he said, breaking away first, knowing that if he didn’t he would have to take her to bed.
‘I’m sorry for our rocky start this evening, Ruiz. I hope the soup makes up for it.’
‘I’m sorry too,’ he said. ‘I was hardly Señor Charming earlier.’ She was a friend of his sister’s, he told himself sternly. It was his duty to be nice to her. Equally, it was his duty not to seduce her. ‘Why don’t we forget it and start over? Minestrone.’ He hummed with appreciation. ‘My favourite.’
‘Really?’ She seemed surprised. ‘I had you down as more of a vichyssoise man.’
‘Oh, please. Do you think I have my newspapers ironed before I read them too?’
‘I’ll be sure to be up early enough to do so, sir.’
‘Be sure you are,’ he teased, holding the emerald gaze until her cheeks flushed red.
A friend of his sister’s? His good intentions where Holly was concerned weren’t holding up too well, Ruiz concluded, registering the pressure in his jeans. ‘Hurry up, I’m hungry,’ he commanded mock-sternly, hoping that by adopting the role of master of the house he would distract them both.
Holly smiled and shook her head. ‘Do you treat all your staff like this?’
‘My staff?’ he queried.
‘The people you pay to do things for you,’ she teased him.
‘Was that supposed to be a joke?’ he countered, finding he couldn’t bring himself to avoid the extraordinary green gaze and that he really didn’t want to.
‘What do you think?’ She laughed.
‘I think you like living dangerously, Ms Valiant,’ he said quietly.
Holly’s smile died. He got the distinct impression that this brush with a man who really liked her was too much too soon for Holly. ‘Do you think Bouncer would like some soup?’ she asked him in a decidedly humourless tone.
‘If you sprinkle cheese on it I doubt he could refuse,’ he said, matching Holly for matter-of-factness. This was like trying to win the trust of a damaged pony. He couldn’t lay his cards on the table—tell her she was beautiful and that he wanted her. He had to earn her trust and wait for Holly to come to him. She was graceful, he thought as she dipped low to feed the dog. She was kind and gentle and funny too. This was proving to be an unexpected distraction and he was enjoying tonight more than he could possibly have imagined.
‘I realise this must be awkward for you,’ she began as she straightened up.
‘Awkward?’ he queried.
‘Living together like this,’ she explained. ‘I’m not exactly experienced when it comes to flatmates.’
He doubted she was experienced in any sense. ‘Don’t worry. You won’t be seeing a lot of me.’
She laughed. ‘Can I have that in writing, please?’
‘And when I’m here I promise to keep out of your way,’ he added.
‘That’s all I need to know,’ she said, but her darkening eyes told a different story.
As they settled down to drink the soup together either side of the kitchen table it occurred to him that, as Lucia’s friend, Holly was practically an honorary member of the family and so deserving of his protection, which was ironic when what she needed was protection from him.
‘Soup okay, Ruiz?’
‘It’s delicious,’ he said. It was. And when she smiled like that, looking so relieved and happy, he knew that Holly was as oblivious to her talents as she was to her beauty. It was when she cut a fresh slice from the crispy loaf, saying, ‘I like a man with a healthy appetite,’ that he had to reach for the butter and pretend he hadn’t heard what she’d said. ‘Hey, Bouncer.’ He called the dog to draw the spotlight off her. ‘Are you snoring?’ he suggested as the big mutt grunted in his sleep.
‘You’re asking questions of a sleeping dog?’ Holly enquired, watching him chin on hand.
‘Is that permitted?’ he teased, thinking how beautiful her eyes were.
Shaking her head, she smiled. ‘I think you love that dog. Don’t worry, I’ll clear up,’ she said, pushing her chair back.
‘Let me help you,’ he offered, realising how much he wanted to be close to her.
One step at a time, Holly thought, feeling heat curl low inside her when Ruiz brushed past her at the sink. Now, if she could just control that heat and direct it into building a friendship with Ruiz everything might work out fine.
‘Why don’t you tell me something about the gap between school with my sister and now?’ Ruiz suggested casually, taking her off guard as they loaded the dishwasher together. ‘You can leave out anything you don’t want to talk about.’
‘That would mean leaving out most of it,’ she said, trying to make a joke of things she really didn’t want to remember. ‘And I’d much rather talk about you.’
‘I’m sure you would,’ Ruiz agreed dryly, easing onto one hip.
‘A playboy makes a much more interesting topic of conversation than the life of a would-be journalist,’ Holly pointed out.
‘A playboy?’ Ruiz queried. ‘Is that how you see me?’
‘That’s how the world sees you.’
‘Really?’ His lips pressed down. ‘It seems a rather old-fashioned term for a man who works hard for a living.’
‘A man who lives like this,’ Holly interrupted him, glancing round the designer kitchen. ‘Most people would find it fascinating.’
‘That’s only because they don’t know the truth about the boring slog associated with getting to this point,’ Ruiz assured her with amusement.
‘And if they did?’ she said carefully.
‘What are you getting at, Holly?’
‘Can I be honest with you?’
‘I hope you’re always honest.’
She braced herself. ‘The column I’m working on is failing. If it has any chance of surviving it needs something different, something unique, to draw people in.’
He looked at her for a moment, and then he said, ‘Oh, no.’
‘Please let me finish,’ she begged him. ‘I’m proposing to write a fictional piece to head up the column and build reader numbers. I’ve always kept a personal diary,’ Holly explained, ‘and this would be a public extension of that—half serious, mostly poking fun at me, ordinary Holly Valiant, living with a glamorous playboy.’
‘No,’ Ruiz said flatly.
‘It was just an idea—’
‘You’re not ordinary and I’m not glamorous.’
But Ruiz seemed glamorous to her with his wild, thick black hair and swarthy complexion. He was darkly dangerous and dangerously sexy. And readers would love him. He was standing very close—close enough to touch—close enough for her senses to pick up on his mood. It wasn’t anger she sensed, but something a lot more worrying.
‘And I’m certainly not a playboy,’ he added, moving away.
‘But who’s to know that?’ she pressed.
‘I can see I’ll have to watch what I say to you in future, Holly Valiant.’
So it wasn’t a complete no, Holly thought, feeling excitement build inside her. ‘I would never write anything derogatory about you.’
‘I should think not …’ And why was he even giving her this much of an opening? It might amuse him to read it, Ruiz reasoned. ‘So is all this talk about a new column just a ruse to get out of telling me about your past?’
‘If I tell you about my past you’ll be asleep in five minutes,’ Holly assured him. ‘Why don’t you start the ball rolling?’ she suggested. ‘Just make sure you leave out anything you don’t want to see in print,’ she added, tongue in cheek.
He stared at her for a moment, and then he laughed. ‘Touché, Ms Valiant.’
‘En garde, Señor Acosta.’
She made him laugh. She made him relax. She made him realise he could enjoy being with a woman without taking her to bed. Who knew? Ruiz mused wryly.
An hour into their chat and they were still going strong. It turned out she did have a talent for teasing out interesting facts, after all. Ruiz had relaxed enough to laugh when she told him about some of her more colourful teenage years. ‘There was the home perm, the fake tan incident, and the gothic fright phase that almost got me thrown out of school. I tried to dye my red hair black, and it turned out green.’
When Ruiz pulled a face his sexy mouth pressed down in the most attractive way. ‘So what did you get up to?’ she pressed.
‘Do you mean, what can I tell you about?’ Ruiz shook his head as he accepted the challenge. ‘I ran away to the pampas when I was about fifteen. When you live on an estancia the size of a small country there is only the pampas to run away to.’
‘Lucky you.’
‘I didn’t think so, aged fifteen.’
It was just another form of isolation, Holly mused, thinking back to her own uncertain teenage years.
‘I lived like a wild boy off the land.’
And she could picture him with limbs as brown as the parched earth he rode across, and his frame as lean as the predators that circled his campfire each night. ‘Weren’t you afraid?’
‘I was too young to know fear. I was fit and strong, and thought myself invincible.’
She couldn’t breathe for a moment, and then the dark eyes that had been dancing with laughter one moment stilled as Ruiz levelled a brooding stare on her face. Lifting one lock of her hair, he curled it around his finger. ‘I can’t believe you tried to dye your beautiful hair, or that you risked turning it into a frizz with a perm.’
‘Risked?’ Holly queried, pulling back, wishing she were ready for this and accepting she might never be. ‘My hair not only frizzed, it fell out. I thought it would never grow back.’
‘You thought no man would ever look at you again?’ he suggested.
‘It isn’t easy being a teenager—for anyone. So, what were you like?’ she pressed. ‘I mean when you grew out of the running-away-to-the-pampas stage?
‘In my early twenties I was insufferably arrogant.’
‘No?’ Holly mocked. ‘I find that impossible to believe.’
He laughed. ‘Believe,’ he assured her. ‘I was quite ridiculous. And rude.’
‘But you’re so polite now.’
‘Why, thank you. I guess my manners managed somehow to survive those years. I have my older brother Nacho to thank for them. He was always very strict with us.’
‘Tell me about him,’ Holly pressed. ‘Tell me about the band of brothers and your sister Lucia.’
‘You probably know Lucia better than I do.’ But he told her how they all felt they owed everything they were and everything they had to Nacho, who had stayed to raise his siblings when their parents had died in a flood.
How could she not warm to this man? Holly wondered as Ruiz’s massive shoulders eased in a regretful shrug while he tried and failed to recover memories of his parents from his early childhood. The more she learned about him, the harder it was going to be to live with him and keep things light—let alone write about him with any form of impartiality. Tugging her feet free from Bouncer’s furry weight, she left the table for the relative security of the sink. ‘I’ll finish clearing up,’ she offered. ‘You can go and—’
‘I can go and … what?’ Ruiz murmured.
He was standing right behind her, Holly realised, quivering as she felt the caress of Ruiz’s breath on her neck. She started to launch into some excuse to move away, but Ruiz was way ahead of her. ‘Goodnight, Holly,’ he said. ‘And thanks for supper. It was great.’
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_ae763744-ac48-5654-95f9-832db2b41c33)
Reality bites.
Love life.
Lustful thoughts.
* * *
THE headings for her personal diary were as far as she got. She would have to change her way of working, Holly decided. She didn’t want to think too closely about reality where her love life was concerned when the only love life she wanted was one she didn’t have the courage to embrace and couldn’t have anyway. She would confine her writing to her fictionalised column in ROCK! It didn’t hurt so much. She couldn’t bring herself to be flip or even name the deeper feelings Ruiz had stirred inside her.
‘There’s no hope for you, Holly Valiant,’ she told her reflection in the bedroom mirror. ‘You are a lost cause where men are concerned.’ But with fair weather and a following wind she might still become a reasonable journalist one day. Opening the lid on her laptop, she began to write.
The playboy has just moved in, so now we are sharing the same living space courtesy of a humungous screw-up on the part of his sister, my best friend. It’s a fabulous penthouse overlooking the River Thames, the Houses of Parliament, and every other iconic London building you can think of—I can see them all from my bedroom window as I write to you. One day in and I can already tell you that playboys are just like the rest of us … but I know that’s not what you want to hear. You want to hear about the fabulous lifestyle, the sex, the drama, and all the extravagance—for that’s how the playboy life appears to us mere mortals. Whereas owning several homes, a couple of private jets, and having the tailor come to call on you is commonplace for the playboy. The only thing I can’t tell you about yet is the sex—it’s too soon—but I have no doubt there will be women flocking round in no time. And I can’t tell you about the tailor, because I made that bit up. But the playboy … that’s another matter. He’s no figment of my imagination. He’s hard and tanned, and stands over six feet tall, with massive shoulders and impossibly strong forearms. His hair is thick, black and wild, like a man who answers to no one, and his eyes are dark and brooding. I’ve never seen his face without a coating of sharp black stubble and his teeth are perfect. You’ll have to imagine my sigh of despondency here, for I am barely five foot three and I’m a redhead. The type you used to call gingers with a hard ‘g’ at school? Plus, I always know the answer to ‘Does my bum look big in this?’ If this rings a bell for you, join me, why don’t you, on my journey of discovery? And I’ll share everything I discover about him here with you.
She could only try, Holly thought, pressing Send. If the team didn’t like the piece they didn’t have to run it. And she couldn’t fight the compulsion to write—or, more truthfully, to write about Ruiz. It was probably going to be the only way she could express her feelings for him.
Since their chat she was seeing Ruiz in a completely new light, as a real man, rather than a fantasy figure. Hearing him go into his own room and close the door, she had crept back into the living room with her laptop. A change of scene usually made ideas flow, but it was hard to imagine she would write any more tonight when her head was stubbornly full of strong arms, and strong tanned hands with lean, elegant fingers. No wonder Ruiz was a world-class polo player. She could so easily imagine those powerful thighs wrapped around the sides of a horse, or those sensitive hands lightly fingering the reins.
How was she supposed to sleep when her head was full of that? Thank goodness she was a realist and could channel all her X-rated thoughts into the column. As far as real life was concerned she had done nothing risky other than sit down and have supper with Ruiz, Holly reassured herself, and where was the harm in that?
‘What do you think, Bouncer?’ she murmured, turning from the makeshift desk she’d created on a table to fluff the animal’s massive ears. ‘At least you’ve got the good sense to maintain a neutral silence,’ she observed wryly as Bouncer adjusted his position on her feet with a contented sigh. ‘I can’t think of a better companion to keep me company through the night than you,’ she told the big dog fondly.
Which was a pity, Ruiz reflected wryly, standing outside the door. Holly was too innocent and too bruised for someone like him to lead astray. Holly believed in love and happy ever after while his hunting instinct was firmly tuned to the here and now. So what now? Was he supposed to go to bed, close his eyes, forget Holly and drift away? Even his dog had changed allegiances.
He should be pleased about that, Ruiz reminded himself, shooting one last glance through the door at the homely tableau Holly had unwittingly created with Bouncer. If someone was going to take care of the dog while he was away, who better than Holly?
* * *
Holly almost fell off her chair when a hand touched her shoulder. ‘Ruiz!’ Who else could unfurl a starburst of sensation like that? Holly reasoned, swinging round. ‘Did I wake you?’ she said with concern. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘I saw the light on,’ Ruiz explained.
He was wearing a robe that had fallen open at the front to reveal a torso that would defy her best attempts to describe it to her readers. ‘Ripped, tanned, and shaded with just the right amount of dark hair,’ would fail utterly to do justice to a body that was unique in Holly’s experience. But then she glimpsed the black boxers beneath the loosely fastened belt and knew it was time to look away. ‘I should have remembered to shut the door when I put the light on,’ she said, blushing furiously.
‘It’s good you’re keen about the job,’ Ruiz observed, propping one hip against the end of the table where she was working, ‘but don’t you think you should get some sleep?’
‘I work best at night—and I’m going to bed soon,’ she added in response to his sceptical look.
‘I suppose I should thank you,’ he said.
Ignoring the danger signal that streaked down her spine, she asked him what he meant.
‘I couldn’t sleep either. I thought I might come in here and watch a game on TV. But if you’re working …’
‘You can watch TV. It won’t disturb me.’ And company would be nice, Holly thought, though in Ruiz’s case she had yet to discover if she could concentrate while he was in the room.
‘No, I think bed is better than dozing on the sofa,’ he said, turning for the door. Stretching out a hand, he added casually, ‘Are you coming?’
It was a moment before she realised he wasn’t talking to Bouncer, but to her. ‘Certainly not,’ she exclaimed indignantly.
‘I was only suggesting you should get some sleep—in your own bed,’ Ruiz stressed, to Holly’s hot, burning shame.
‘In a minute,’ she said, bending low over the laptop so that her hair concealed her face. ‘I’ve got a couple of things I need to finish off here first.’
‘Would you like me to read what you’ve written so far?’
‘No, thank you.’ All her yearning and insecurities written to amuse the reader were a little too close for comfort where Ruiz was concerned. She looked up to him standing over her, his eyes dancing with laughter. ‘Have you been reading over my shoulder?’
‘Me?’ he drawled.
‘Yes. You.’ Closing the lid on her laptop, she stood to confront him, which involved some serious neck-craning. ‘I prefer to finesse my work before I show it to anyone. I’d only be sharing bullet points with you at this juncture.’
‘Oh, would you?’ he asked, mocking her suddenly starchy English accent with a chocolaty South American drawl. ‘Well, if you’re quite sure?’ The wicked mouth tugged in a sexy grin. ‘My sister tells me I’m a very good listener …’
‘I’m sure you are,’ Holly agreed, then deflated instantly as Ruiz turned for the door. Why had she driven him away? What was wrong with her? ‘Do you mind if I keep Bouncer with me tonight?’ she said, hardly realising it was an attempt to keep him a moment longer.
‘Be my guest,’ he said with an expression in his dark, laughing eyes that said as far as attempts to stop him leaving her went, this was lame. ‘I’m relieved you and Bouncer get along so well.’
Why were alarm bells ringing? She should have picked Ruiz up on that last remark, Holly realised. She hadn’t agreed to dog-sit Bouncer for him, had she? She had a horrible suspicion that Ruiz had taken her agreement to do this for granted.
She handled relationships with animals better than she did with men, Holly reflected, kneeling down so she could cuddle up to some non-judgmental warmth. ‘Oh, Bouncer, why am I such a clutz when it comes to men?’ She sagged as the door clicked quietly shut.
* * *
There was better news for Holly the next morning. The team had not only accepted her first submission to the column, but was delighted and relieved she could deliver a follow-up so quickly. Holly couldn’t help but smile when they showed her the first article in print, with her second article already up on the web site. Early signs suggested that hits on the web site had increased, and they had all gathered round to read what she had to say.
One failed relationship does not a lifetime of disastrous love affairs make. Don’t let it rule your life. Don’t let it dictate what you should expect from life, or restrict what you achieve, says the redhead who doesn’t even register on the playboy’s radar—but who would like to. As you may have suspected, living with a playboy isn’t as straightforward, or as glamorous as it sounds. The playboy may see me as a quirky nuisance, but I have all the same lusts and longings as the most beautiful playgirls we’ve ever featured in ROCK! My trouble is, I waste far too much time wondering how can a girl like me attract a man like that? When the simple answer is: I can’t. And why would I want to, when you and I both know I’m looking for something more than a one-night stand—however memorable that one night stand might be. And it would be memorable. But please don’t think I’m defeated, because after last night’s surprisingly cosy supper chat back at the penthouse I think the playboy and me might have something going on in the friendship department. And friends are one of the most precious things in life, don’t you agree?
There had been friendship between herself and Ruiz last night, hadn’t there? Holly fretted as the team congratulated her. She couldn’t help but keep running over everything Ruiz and she had said to each other, and had to drag herself back to the present so as not to offend her colleagues when they suggested a celebratory lunch at the local coffee bar.
After lunch, she worked until the end of the day on reader problems. Quite a few more had come in by e-mail. All the team had their heads down, and someone suggested readers might have grown in confidence knowing they wouldn’t receive a flip response from someone who was having her own battle with insecurity.
‘Let’s hope this isn’t a flash in the pan,’ Holly told the staffer on her way home that evening, when even he had said well done. She could hardly believe it when the king of the sceptics cracked a smile and winked back at her.
* * *
Ruiz had arranged a supper date with a woman who always made him laugh. He sat through it glancing at his watch, wondering what Holly was doing at the penthouse. She didn’t have many friends in London yet, and with the trouble she’d mentioned at work—the predicted early demise of the agony-aunt column—he guessed she must be feeling low. He made some polite mumble in response to the woman sitting opposite him at the high-end restaurant, but they both knew his thoughts were elsewhere.
‘Excuse me, Ruiz.’
He refocused as the woman across the supper table from him touched his hand. ‘Forgive me,’ he responded. ‘It’s been one of those days.’
‘I can see that,’ his blonde companion murmured in a suggestive purr.
‘Do you mind if we cut this short?’ Even the tone of her voice set his teeth on edge, and they both knew the answer to his question. Players in the field could read each other like well-thumbed books and he was tired of playing the field, or whatever this type of civilised prelude to sex was called. ‘Please accept my apologies,’ he said, abruptly standing. ‘I realise I’ve been lousy company tonight.’
His companion didn’t argue.
* * *
Two weeks had passed since her first article for the column, and these days she was rising before dawn to start work on her ideas. There didn’t seem to be enough hours in the day now her ‘Living with a Playboy’ feature had been officially declared a success, but at least that made it easier to live with Ruiz. Keeping busy gave Holly less time to regret that she wasn’t a five foot six blonde with more up front than behind, and meant she could channel her energies into the column. Since that night when Ruiz had come back and looked at Holly long and hard as if he were trying to work out what particular brand of sugar and spice she was made of, he had kept away. There had been no more cosy chats. And, of course, that suited her.
No, it didn’t. She had spent most of last night wondering where he had spent the night. Plus, her thoughts on Ruiz’s lady friends were not all worthy of the girl she used to be. She had become an evil shrew and felt an uncontrollable urge to share this with her readers, who were growing in number by the day. It turned out that even so-called nice girls could discover a very different side to their natures when there was a gorgeous man involved …
Glancing at the stack of newspapers piled neatly by the side of the desk she had improvised in the penthouse, Holly knew she must put Ruiz out of her mind for ten seconds, finish her work, and then study the Classified ad section and circle some rooms to let. She couldn’t go on like this. She had to find somewhere to live where she could stand on her own two feet. Frowning as she bent her head over the keyboard again, she completed the advice section for the agony-aunt column and then turned to her next piece for ‘Living with a Playboy’.
I would have stayed in the background as I had intended had it not been for a very expensive pair of designer shoes …
Don’t believe anyone who tells you women are on the same side when there are shoes and a playboy at stake. In this situation it’s a case of survival of the fittest—and I have discovered that I need to have a serious rethink if I’m going to survive.
Honestly, I don’t have a clue. How was I supposed to know that the high-heeled shoes I found dumped in the hallway when I got home from work would lead to a pair of sexy hold-ups artfully draped over the handle of the living room door? Or that the woman reclining on the sofa in a bright pink Basque and a rather scary translucent thong was expecting our mutual friend to walk in rather than me?
How was I supposed to know she had a key?
I don’t know who was more surprised—me, or the blonde. Anyway, I apologised, and, on my way out of the room, managed to tumble over her shoes and snap the heel off. Needless to say, all hell broke loose. Quickly realising that neither my vocabulary nor my stumpy, bitten nails were up to a cat fight I took myself off to the bathroom and locked the door, where I proceeded to sing tunelessly with my hands over my ears until I heard our mutual friend arrive. When I removed my hands from my ears it was to hear him promise to do something about the mad woman in the flat and replace the shoes she had destroyed. Traitor, I thought.
But the promise of shoes made me think that here was a man I might be able to do business with … until I considered this more deeply and realised that a playboy would never do it for me, because I want to buy my own shoes and I’m pretty sure one pair wouldn’t be enough …
Closing the computer, Holly sat back before turning to her next task. Lifting the newspapers onto the table, she sorted and stacked them, and then started methodically trawling through the ads. She had a reassuring number of opportunities circled when she heard the front door open and a familiar stride coming her way. Her heart began to thump. It was very early in the day to have any sort of confrontation, let alone be thrown out on the street with some bimbo cheering Ruiz on. It was with enormous relief that she realised he was alone. Opening her laptop again, she pretended to be working when he came into the room.
‘Good morning, Holly.’
‘Morning,’ she said offhandedly. But she rather spoiled the effect by looking up to find Ruiz dressed immaculately in a sharp dark suit, with a crisp white shirt, and a pearl-grey tie. He looked amazing.
‘I just got in from Paris,’ he explained, dumping an exquisitely wrapped box of tiny rainbow-tinted macaroons on the table in front of her.
‘What have I done to deserve this honour?’ she enquired in the same cool tone, while hectic images of hysterical girlfriends re-enacting the ‘off with her head’ scene between the Red Queen and Alice leapt unbidden into her head. Did the Red Queen wear a translucent pink thong, perchance? ‘What?’ she said as Ruiz shrugged off his jacket, loosened his tie, freed a couple of buttons at the neck of his shirt, and stretched out on the sofa swinging a distinctive carrier bag from a well-known Parisian boutique above his head.
‘What size feet have you got?’ he asked.
‘Isn’t that a rather personal question?’ There were some things a lady never divulged. Though, to be fair, the shoes she had trashed belonging to Miss Pink Basque had been the same size Holly wore.
‘Well, if you don’t want them.’
‘If I knew what you were talking about …’
‘Why don’t you come over here and find out?’ Ruiz suggested. ‘If the shoes are the wrong size you can always take them back to the store and change them.’
‘In Paris?’
‘No need to sound so snippy,’ he said, sitting up to bait her with a stare. ‘Not jealous, are we?’ And just like that the dark, dangerous eyes were laughing again.
But after the bimbo affair Holly refused to be won over quite so easily. ‘I’m not at all jealous of you,’ she said crisply. ‘I’ve seen your friends.’
‘You’ve seen a passing acquaintance,’ Ruiz assured her, ‘who has now passed.’
‘Away? How unfortunate.’
‘Into history, I was about to say. Don’t be sarcastic, Holly,’ Ruiz warned, pretending to be stern. ‘It doesn’t suit you.’
She turned back to the keyboard, hurting inside. Even a mistress who had passed into history was a mistress too far. ‘I suppose I can use the story for the column,’ she muttered.
‘If you don’t want the shoes …’
Holly stiffened. ‘Are you saying you bought the shoes for me?’
‘I bought the blonde shoes—’
‘What a gentleman you are,’ Holly interrupted acidly. ‘How thoughtful of you.’
‘Holly,’ Ruiz droned good-humouredly, ‘I bought the shoes to replace the ones you broke, but the blonde decided she’d prefer a cheque for a somewhat larger amount, so I took the shoes back to the store—’
‘Do I need to hear this?’
‘I just want to make it clear that I’m not giving you anyone’s leftovers. I bought them for you. Don’t you want to see them?’
‘For me?’ she said suspiciously, hating the way her voice was trembling. ‘You bought shoes … for me?’ She turned to find Ruiz looking less confident than usual, or maybe she was delusional, which was entirely possible. In the end curiosity got the better of her. There was nothing wrong with taking a look. She could only hope Ruiz’s taste in shoes was an improvement on his taste in women. She could fake it for the column, but she was pretty sure she couldn’t fake anything for Ruiz, though he stood a serious risk of having the shoes land heavily on his head if this was another of his jokes!
‘Before we came to the mutual decision that cash was king the blonde chose some trashy, sparkly things, like the ones you stomped on,’ Ruiz explained, handing the box over. ‘I thought they looked better in pieces, frankly, and so I chose these. What do you think?’
Did shoe heaven cover it? The leather was the softest she had ever felt, the heel was the highest, the colour was a beautiful pale dove grey. And the sole was scarlet. ‘I think …’ They’re divine, Holly thought, feeling a quiver of excitement at the prospect of wearing them. She could never have afforded shoes like these … ‘I think you should return them to the shop,’ she said, remembering the advice she had given one of her readers in capital letters on this very subject: ‘Never Accept Expensive Gifts From Men. Why? Because it puts you in their debt.’ And the piece hadn’t even gone to press yet, sensible Holly reminded drooling Holly sternly. ‘As they haven’t been worn I think you could get a full refund,’ she said, placing the shoe back in its box.
‘What’s wrong with them?’ Ruiz demanded, removing his crossed feet from the table and sitting up straight.
‘I never accept gifts like this from men.’
‘Well, that’s a habit you should change right away,’ Ruiz observed dryly. ‘I suppose it also means I can’t take you out to supper tonight—though if you feel badly about it, I can always let you pay …’
Ruiz was asking her out?
No. Ruiz was asking her to take him out, which gave Holly a problem. If this had been a straightforward invitation to supper she could refuse, but seeing as she was taking up half a penthouse that was rightfully his, the least she could do was stand Ruiz a meal …
‘Perhaps if we go out I’ll get a chance to talk to you about paying a fair rent to live here,’ Holly murmured thoughtfully. To date, both Ruiz and Lucia had refused to take any money from her, while Holly’s house-hunting efforts had swung disastrously between scratching sounds behind the skirting boards to smelly drains, and even, on one memorable viewing, an infestation of ants. ‘Rent?’ she prompted, seeing now that there was something very worrying in Ruiz’s eyes.
‘What a great idea,’ he agreed mildly. ‘Trust you to come up with something.’
* * *
The day improved when Holly arrived at ROCK! to find she had been given her own office with two assistants to help her, which she had to take as a sign that the agony-aunt column was on the up. ‘But let’s not get carried away,’ she cautioned the two girls sent to help her. ‘This is still early days, and—’
‘You’ve worked a miracle so we can all keep our jobs?’ Pixie suggested.
‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that,’ Holly argued red-faced.
‘You have to carry on living with the playboy now … poor you,’ Freya said, exchanging a wry look with Pixie. ‘Not that we’re jealous, or anything.’
What would Ruiz have to say about that? Holly wondered, feeling the buzz inside her ramp up a gear at the thought that she had to go out to supper tonight with him.
‘Anyway, we’re just glad to be here,’ Freya added warmly as she plonked a thriving pot plant, her personalised mug, a budget-sized box of tissues and a generous supply of chocolate for them all to share on the desk.
‘You’re right,’ Holly agreed, telling herself not to be so selfish and join in the celebration. She had to stop wishing and longing, and pretending she could steer her life to a happy-ever-after-ending in which a confident Holly Valiant won the hand of a prince instead of a frog. She could do what she liked through the column, but not that. The ‘Living with a Playboy’ feature was a fiction to boost reader numbers, which it had done, and that had to be enough for her. Except it wasn’t, Holly admitted silently as she exchanged spirited high fives with the other girls.
But hang on a minute, Holly thought as the celebration subsided. Wasn’t this expansion of the column and securing of their jobs the moment she’d been working towards? And wasn’t it essential to immerse herself in that work if she was going to forget being anxious about supper with Signor Sexy tonight? Her gaze fired as the other girls looked to her expectantly. ‘Chocolate?’ she said.
‘Tick!’ the girls chorused.
‘Bottle of fizz to celebrate?’ She was less sure of this one and was already planning to slip out and buy something.
‘Tick!’ Pixie said triumphantly, producing a bottle from behind her back.
‘I think we have everything we need,’ Holly confirmed. ‘Let’s kick this column into shape!’
And let me have something I can control to think about, she prayed fervently, instead of a whole lot of man that I can’t.
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_7751ce45-aaf8-56c7-9961-1d3f4becf5af)
‘Mirror, mirror on the wall—’ Will someone cover the damn mirror!
Tonight’s the night. I am taking the playboy out to supper and I can’t decide what to wear. I realise that taking him out reverses the natural order of things—but then I am not the playboy’s natural order, if you take my meaning. I am more of a meagre side dish—the type of thing you order to try, and more often than not leave untouched. Me? Lacking in confidence? What makes you think that?
All right. I admit it. Every item of clothing I possess is on the bed, or on the floor. Carrier bags and sales tickets are scattered around like confetti, because, as it turns out, my wardrobe is full of nothing to wear. And, as I am constantly reminded by the playboy’s long-legged basque-wearing friends, sex sells. Not exactly my area of expertise. Consequently, I have decided that my next article for you will be a helpful piece on the subject of staying out of debt. At least that’s where my credit card provider told me I should be concentrating my thoughts.
I must admit the real crisis of confidence came when I tried to decide what to underpin my modest outfit with tonight. As I don’t possess a single basque, or hold-up stocking, should I chance a shocking-pink thong?
As my underwear is unlikely to receive an airing, that hardly matters, does it?
And the playboy? He’s acting as cool and as sexy as ever. Accompanying me to supper is nothing more than a workaday chore for him in order to keep in his sister’s good books. So at least I should be safe. And I should be glad about that—right?
TYPING up her column was a displacement activity Holly had hoped would take her mind off the fact that she would soon be sitting across a table from Ruiz—speaking to him, staring into his eyes—all the time pretending they were nothing more than friends. Her shopping had been more erratic than usual with her frantic purchases more suitable for a royal wedding than a casual supper in a local bistro and she was fast losing confidence in her ability to pull this off.
Closing the lid on her laptop, Holly glanced at the shoe box the unscrupulous Ruiz had left temptingly outside her door. It was on her bed now. She had been forced to bring it into the bedroom in case someone fell over it. But of course she couldn’t wear the shoes unless Ruiz allowed her to pay for them. And as that would take a whole month’s salary …
The dress she had finally chosen to wear was a sale-rail spectacular—A-line, with a flirty skirt and a high scooped neck. It wasn’t black, which was about the best that could be said for it, but at least it was the same soft blue as her favourite shirt. With her hair neatly brushed, lip gloss present and correct, and just a suggestion of smudgy grey eye shadow to complement the flick of black mascara, she was ready. And nervous.
What did she have to be nervous about? Eating supper was a harmless activity.
Sharing food could be very sexy.
Fish and chips?
Mating rituals like eating supper together and how to avoid them was another good headline for her column, Holly concluded as she shifted anxiously from foot to foot in the hallway, waiting for Ruiz. But seeing as there was no escape from tonight, fish was out—ditto anything like spinach that might get stuck in her teeth. Thankfully, she had identified a healthy-food café where they could nibble on crudités and drink sparkling elder-flower water. Perfect. She would keep a clear head and as the café was brilliantly lit with sensible, hard-backed chairs Ruiz wouldn’t want to stay for long—
And when they came home?
She’d plead tiredness and go to bed. Alone.
Just when she’d almost given up on him, Ruiz stormed back into the apartment like an avenging angel in a cloud of cold air and warm smiles with Bouncer panting vigorously at his heels. ‘Ready?’ he demanded.
‘Ready,’ Holly confirmed.
‘Where are you taking me?’ he said as he bent down to remove Bouncer’s leash.
‘I thought the little café down the road—’
‘The one where we met?’ Ruiz sounded upbeat as his lips pressed down with approval of her choice. ‘Hang on while I fill Bouncer’s water bowl—’
‘No … No, that one’s shut,’ she called out.
Ruiz sauntered back into the hall. ‘Tell me you’re not taking me to that place where they serve lentil soup, and you have to sit round a communal table on hemp sacks?’
‘What’s wrong with that?’ she said. ‘They do have private booths.’
‘Where you can sit on even bigger hemp sacks? No, thank you.’
‘So where do you want to go?’ she said irritably.
‘You’re letting me choose?’ Ruiz’s mouth curved in a grin.
Why couldn’t she learn to keep her big mouth shut? She would never be able to afford Ruiz’s preferred style of restaurant. ‘I’m sure I can find somewhere else you would like,’ she told him firmly.
‘I know somewhere you’d like,’ Ruiz countered. ‘It’s walking distance from here—and not expensive,’ he added when Holly’s eyes widened in panic. ‘Mid-week is all about economy, Ms Valiant.’
‘Are you mocking me, Señor Acosta?’
‘Would I?’ he said.
Holly’s look said it all. And now her mind was swinging wildly between the safe café of her choice and somewhere of Ruiz’s choosing—and how economical that would be in terms of their very different incomes. ‘Am I dressed okay for this place of yours?’
‘You’ll do,’ he said, holding her gaze with a raised eyebrow and a sexy grin.
‘It’s still my treat,’ she insisted firmly, trying to hang onto her composure.
‘Of course it is,’ Ruiz agreed. ‘Though I am prepared to make a deal with you.’
Why was he staring at her shoes? Her comfortable, clunky-heeled shoes? They were perfect if they were going to walk to the place Ruiz had mentioned. Did he need to look at them as if she had committed some terrible faux pas and make her even more nervous about stepping into Ruiz’s world than she already was?
‘This is the deal.’ Ruiz angled his disreputably stubbled chin in Holly’s direction. ‘I’ll pay for supper tonight if you wear the shoes I bought for you.’
The shoes he bought? Accept his gift? Take a totter on the wild side on five-inch heels instead of remaining safely corralled inside the magazine column on her clunkies? ‘I can’t walk in high heels. And, anyway, I already told you that I—’
‘Don’t accept gifts from men,’ Ruiz supplied. ‘I do remember.’
‘So, how does this work?’ Holly demanded. ‘I get the shoes and you pay for supper. Do you seriously think I’m going to go for that?’
‘I think you should,’ he said evenly. ‘I think if you had any sense you would.’
‘Well, clearly I don’t have any sense,’ Holly fired back, ‘because—’ Because what? Come on, come on ‘—because tonight is supposed to be my treat for you.’ Ah, yes, sweet relief. ‘Because you have to let me do something in return for allowing me to stay in the Acosta penthouse.’ Yes! ‘And as for wearing a pair of brand-new shoes that you could easily take back to the store and get a refund for—’
‘Oh, get over yourself,’ Ruiz flashed, raising the emotional temperature by a few thousand degrees. ‘You’re my sister’s best friend. If my friends were in London and needed accommodation I would expect Lucia to show them hospitality. This is a courtesy to my sister.’
As she had thought. Okay, she’d asked for that, Holly accepted as Ruiz and his storm-face reached the door. ‘Okay?’ he questioned, banging it open.
‘Okay,’ she fired back. Stepping out of the fictional world she had created for Ruiz and into reality with him might be a little more combative and complex than she had first imagined, Holly realised. And as for the effect on her senses, she could only trust that the keeper of her moral code was on duty tonight.
‘I thought we might go dancing,’ Ruiz dropped in casually as he held the door for her to go through.
‘Dancing?’ Holly managed on a dry throat, knowing her face must have been a picture of doom as she walked past him.
‘Something wrong with that?’ Ruiz demanded, turning to lock the door.
Where to start? Dancing meant touching each other, holding each other, moving as closely as two people could move together, unless they were—
‘Those shoes are perfect for dancing. Thank you for wearing them,’ Ruiz said with worrying charm as she click-clacked across the lobby towards the elevator.
‘My pleasure,’ Holly said primly, which was the understatement of the year. Well, she could hardly leave the shoes alone in a box while she went out, could she? They might fade, or something.
‘Tonight should make very good reading for your column,’ Ruiz observed as they stood waiting for the lift to arrive.
Holly forced a small laugh. Not too good, she hoped. She’d given up on the thong and was wearing really big knickers instead.
They crossed the road and walked through the park with a good three feet of air between them. Where was Ruiz taking her? Holly wondered as he turned off down a cobbled side street where the mews houses would go for millions and any club would be exclusive in the extreme. She was feeling extremely self-conscious by the time Ruiz stopped outside an iron-studded door where the faint strains of South American music could be heard on the street. But the club did look intriguing—all dark and mysterious like the man at her side.
‘A Brazilian friend of mine owns the club,’ Ruiz explained. ‘They have great food and even better dancing. A place like this will be dynamite for your column. Ready, Holly?’
As she would ever be, Holly thought, taking a deep breath.
When would she get another chance like this? Holly asked herself sensibly. The humour in Ruiz’s eyes reassured her, though when he rested his arm across her shoulders as they waited for the doorman to examine their faces through the grill, she had to tell herself that Ruiz was just doing his thing and that it was in his nature to make people feel good.
Richly carpeted steps led down to a luxurious, stone-flagged basement, where lead-paned glass glinted in the sultry glow of candles. The heavy polished furniture and rich draperies in ruby reds and regal purples gave the club an established sense of luxury and indulgence. Ruiz was right about it providing food for her column. It was not only packed, she could see now through the archway leading into the main dining room and dance floor, but, judging by the clientele, it was the hottest place in town. Her readers would definitely be interested, Holly thought as Ruiz held her coat. ‘Is that a samba they’re playing?’
‘Very good,’ Ruiz remarked as he handed Holly’s coat to an attendant. ‘I can tell you’re eager to dance—’
‘Oh, no,’ Holly exclaimed as her pulse raced off the scale. ‘I’m only here to observe.’ But in her head she was already practising the steps. She had taken some classes a while back with a friend, but her heart thundered at the thought that Ruiz might put her to the test. She reassured herself that the samba had been one of the easiest dances to learn: back, forward, forward. There were only three steps to remember, for goodness’ sake—
‘You do dance the samba …?’
Ruiz’s eyes were dancing with laughter, Holly noticed. ‘And how do you know that?’ she challenged him.
‘You’re mouthing the steps.’
‘No, I’m not,’ Holly argued, relieved when the maître d’ arrived to escort them to their table. He had seated them right at the edge of the dance floor, which was fantastic for watching the dancers, but terrible if, like Holly, you didn’t want to be so dangerously close to the action.
‘The steps will soon come back to you,’ Ruiz assured her with an amused smile.
‘I’m sure you’re right,’ Holly agreed as the maitre d’ removed the reserved sign with a flourish.
‘And I think you’re going to be very good at it,’ Ruiz prompted when Holly gave him a look. ‘Dancing, I mean.’
As Ruiz lounged back in his comfortably padded chair all Holly could think about was the scary dance teacher, yelling at her to Bounce, Valiant, bounce! For goodness’ sake, lift your feet, girl! Before she fell over them presumably. Would samba lessons delivered in her local community centre by a moustachioed teacher help her now? Holly wondered as she gazed at the slinky couples moving effortlessly around the floor. Somehow, she doubted it. This samba was faster, cooler, and way sexier than she remembered, especially when she compared it to her shambling attempts. But then she had been dancing with an equally uncoordinated girl. Men had been thin on the ground in the classes, so most of the women ended up dancing together, Holly remembered, glancing at her rugged companion. Dancing with Ruiz Acosta might be somewhat different, she suspected.
He was impatient when people kept on greeting him—especially impatient when he noticed the curious glances they were lavishing on Holly. He should have known better than to bring her here but he had wanted her to have a treat. He had wanted to get her away from the computer and from the shadows of the past for just one evening. He would have liked half an hour with the man who hurt her. She was so inexperienced, so vulnerable. He hated the type of man who took advantage of that. He wondered if Holly had ever known love. Lucia had told him something about her clever friend who had been sent away to school on a scholarship by parents who never visited. No wonder his generous-hearted sister had palled up with sensible Holly Valiant. He could see it all now. Lucia had provided the warmth Holly had so badly needed, while Holly had kept his sister in line—just about.
‘What are you smiling at now?’ she said.
‘Thinking about Lucia …’
‘Ah.’ She relaxed.
‘And I’m enjoying myself,’ he confessed, only realising now how true that was. He was completely relaxed—especially now that everyone had taken the hint and seen that he wanted to be alone with his supper companion. Had anyone ever made love to Holly, he wondered, or had they just used her without ever seeing the side of her that Holly kept so close? She was different from anyone he had ever known. He knew most women only wanted him for the material things he could provide—things in which Holly had absolutely no interest.
‘Do you mind if I take my shoes off?’ she said, distracting him from his thoughts as she pulled a comic face. ‘I’ll keep my feet under the table so you don’t have to look at them—’
He laughed as she kicked the expensive shoes he’d bought her into touch.
* * *
She watched Ruiz greet acquaintances with a casual wave. He knew a lot of people in London, or, rather, a lot of people knew Ruiz, Holly amended, and they all seemed inordinately pleased if he noticed them. Perhaps it was she who needed a wake-up call, Holly reflected. Ruiz was an international sportsman and highly respected—
‘Are you okay?’ Ruiz prompted.
‘Of course.’
‘I want you to enjoy yourself.’
‘I’m sure I shall.’ She thought about Ruiz’s comment regarding entertaining friends of the family and hoped she wasn’t keeping him from his own friends. ‘It’s very good of you to bring me here,’ she said politely.
Ruiz gave her a quizzical look. ‘It’s very good of you to come with me.’
Was it? Even in jeans and a crisp white shirt Ruiz looked amazing and exuded class, while Holly was increasingly aware of buying something just because it was in the sale that really didn’t suit her and that was now clinging unattractively to her bargain-basement body.
‘Would you like to dance?’ Ruiz suggested.
‘With you?’
‘Were you thinking of dancing with someone else?’ he queried with a sultry growl.
‘In front of everyone?’
‘That is the usual way.’
‘Won’t people talk? So many people seem to know who you are.’
‘And if they do?’
‘I don’t want you to be unmasked,’ Holly whispered dramatically, thinking she had found the perfect excuse not to dance with the playboy in public.
‘Do they give you a byline on the Playboy column these days?’ Ruiz asked innocently.
‘No, of course they don’t put my name on the column. I’m part of a team—’
Stop! Stop Talking NOW, Holly’s inner voice advised, before you dig the hole any deeper. Of course no one knew who she was. She was just another of Ruiz’s many female friends as far as the people at the club were concerned. ‘Shall we chat and eat first?’ she suggested, red-faced.
For a moment she thought Ruiz would argue and insist on dancing, but he just said, ‘Whatever you like,’ and picked up the menu.
And now she was disappointed. A hemp sack and a bowl of lentils was pretty much what she deserved, Holly concluded. Burying her head in the menu, she mentally revisited the conversation where Ruiz had made it clear that this evening was all about entertaining his sister’s friend.
‘Are you going to relax any time soon, Holly?’
She looked up. ‘I’m sorry. I’m just a bit overwhelmed by all this.’
‘All this?’
‘I feel a bit out of place here, to be honest.’ Whereas Ruiz was so confident and so good-looking he was at ease anywhere.
‘Out of place? Why should you say that? I can’t think of anyone who deserves a night off more than you do, Holly. Since the moment I met you, you’ve been working all hours.’
‘But all these people are so—’ She snatched a breath as Ruiz’s hand touched her arm.
‘Choose something to eat,’ he prompted.
Studying the menu, and actually reading it this time, Holly gulped when she saw the prices. When the waiter arrived to take their order she told him that a starter-sized salad would be enough for her. Shaking his head, Ruiz countermanded that idea and ordered for her. ‘You don’t have to eat what I’ve ordered for you,’ he explained, ‘but if you’re going to continue working at the pace you do, one lettuce leaf and a spoonful of dressing isn’t enough to keep you going.’
Ruiz’s amused glance lasted a little longer this time and as she held it something told Holly that if she could relax they might be friends. After all, Ruiz was her best friend’s brother, and she loved Lucia …
The meal Ruiz had ordered for Holly was delicious. He had chosen perfectly. The most delicious halibut she had ever tasted came with side orders of buttered spinach, roasted tomatoes, and creamy mashed potatoes. Ruiz devoured an epic steak, and after the meal they drank strong, aromatic coffee as they watched professional dancers giving an eye-popping demonstration of how the samba should be danced. Surely, Ruiz couldn’t expect her to do that? Holly thought, imagining how she might interpret the hip grinding and pelvic thrusting, which the professional dancers managed to turn into something so erotic, and yet so stylish. It might look rather different if she took to the floor. And then there were the outfits. The woman’s costume was glittery and filmy, barely a whisper of aquamarine chiffon decorated with diamanté, while the man’s black trousers might have been sprayed on—
‘And now we dance,’ Ruiz announced when the applause had died down.
‘I don’t think so,’ Holly protested, sitting deeper in her chair.
Ruiz gave her no option. Making her gasp as he lifted her out of the seat, he lowered her onto a dance floor crowded with couples only too eager to show what they could do. ‘You can’t force me,’ Holly protested, turning to go.
‘And you can’t resist the music.’ He brought her back again.
Short of drawing attention to herself, she had no option but to go through the motions of dancing one samba, Holly concluded. She was just gearing herself up to do this when another man, crowned with the same menacing glamour as Ruiz, strode up to them. Swinging a welcoming arm around Ruiz’s shoulders, he exclaimed, ‘Hello, my friend. Long time no see.’ His gaze remained fixed on Holly’s face—assessing and no doubt drawing all the wrong conclusions, she thought. This must be the Brazilian friend Ruiz had told her about, Holly concluded as the two men exchanged a fierce hug.
Ruiz confirmed this when he introduced them. ‘Holly, I’d like you to meet an old friend and adversary of mine—’
‘Not so much of the old, please,’ Gabriel insisted with his gaze still trained on Holly. ‘Though I won’t argue about our adversarial tendencies.’
‘Gabriel,’ Holly said politely, hoping she wouldn’t get her hand scorched off when she shook his hand. Was there a whole contingent of stunning South Americans living in London? Holly wondered as more, equally striking men joined their group.
‘Polo players,’ Ruiz explained, slipping out of Portuguese with Gabriel into Spanish with some of the others. ‘My apologies, Holly,’ he added politely. ‘We will speak only English now,’ Ruiz instructed his friends.
Polo players? She would never have guessed, Holly mused wryly, taking in the muscular physiques. All the men looked like athletes and none of them was afraid of staring her straight in the eyes. She wasn’t used to such forthright inspection and felt her cheeks fire red. And then Ruiz introduced her by explaining that Holly was an agony aunt, which only brought a fresh blood-rush to her cheeks.
‘Holly doesn’t look much like your auntie to me,’ Gabriel commented dryly.
‘If you need any help or advice, Holly, don’t hesitate to call me,’ another man drawled.
‘Enough,’ Ruiz commanded good-humouredly. To Holly’s further amazement, he then placed a protective arm around her shoulders. ‘You’ll have Holly believing all South Americans are best avoided by respectable women.’
‘Respectable women?’ Gabriel commented in a low drawl. ‘Now there’s a rare breed. You must allow me to offer you the hospitality of my club,’ Gabriel added, switching his amused, worldly stare from Holly’s face to Ruiz. ‘At least for the first part of your evening. The rest of the night is up, to you my friends.’
‘That’s enough, Gabe.’ Ruiz cautioned his friend in a low voice in a way that made Holly feel unusually protected.
Not a bad feeling, she concluded, if one she was unused to. Ruiz leaping to her defence was surprise enough, but seeing how quickly the other men backed off when he told them to communicated a lot about Ruiz. ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly when they were alone again.
‘For what?’ Ruiz demanded.
‘I think you know,’ she said.
CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_da94212c-0368-5d4b-a299-3aa8140fc0fb)
Playing with fire and the consequences thereof. Someone once told me that dancing is one of the few things we humans do in perfect rhythm with a partner, and that the other notable activity, more often than not, follows afterwards.
Fat chance, is all I can say.
Oh, and I would write at greater length, but tapping away under the table while the playboy briefly chats with more admirers doesn’t give me much chance to wax lyrical. I can only say that the consequences of the gawkiest redhead in town attending the hottest club in town with the sexiest man in town, steeling herself to dance the hottest dance on the planet with a man born to move in rhythm with a partner, should give you a laugh—
HER next column would be one heck of a read, Holly concluded as Ruiz led her onto the dance floor. Seeing him here outside an environment they shared was interesting. She liked him better if anything. The respect Ruiz attracted from the other men was a measure of him, and although she was the clumsiest thing on two feet she felt confident Ruiz would never laugh at her or put her down the way her ex had. She only had to see him with his friends to know Ruiz was all about making people feel good.
‘Please excuse my friends,’ he said as if he had picked up on her thoughts. ‘Waiting for the polo season to get underway frustrates them. I’m afraid they’re suffering an overdose of testosterone without the opportunity to work it off.’
‘I’m really not that sensitive.’
‘In the workplace? I would agree with you,’ he said. ‘But personally … I’m not so sure.’
‘They really didn’t upset me,’ Holly stressed. ‘So you can relax.’
‘If you ask me to …’
As his lips tugged she shivered with awareness. What was the female equivalent of Ruiz’s friends’ problem? Pheromone-frenzy? Whatever it might be she had it bad.
‘We’re all impatient for the polo season to start, Holly,’ Ruiz confided, drawing her gaze back to his strong, dark face.
Her name sounded so exotic on Ruiz’s lips it must be way past the time to steer her thoughts onto safer ground. ‘You must miss polo and Argentina very much.’
‘I miss my brothers more than the game. I even miss that wretched sister of mine,’ Ruiz admitted wryly. ‘I miss the space and the wild free gallops,’ he added, drawing her close, fortunately so engaged in his own thoughts Ruiz missed her sharp intake of breath as she collided with his hard body. ‘And I miss the warmth of the people.’
There was quite a lot of warmth going on here too, Holly thought as Ruiz pressed against her, but then she noticed he was staring over her head at nothing in particular, as if his thoughts were somewhere else, far away. But when the music started to play and his hand found hers she thrilled at the warmth of his touch. He moved gently at first, easing her into the dance, his confident movements in perfect timing with the beat of the music. He held her so lightly, and yet the music seemed to flow from him to her so that even Holly’s awkward body responded perfectly. She was infected by the rhythm, and by Ruiz, Holly concluded, and by the sense that on a cold winter’s night there was nowhere else on earth she would rather be than dancing the samba in Ruiz’s arms.
Had she gone completely mad?
Probably, Holly thought as Ruiz, having told her to relax, firmed his grip. ‘That’s better,’ he approved as she began to move a little more confidently to the music, but then he added, ‘I think you have been less than honest with me, Holly.’
‘What do you mean?’ Her head shot up.
‘You can dance,’ Ruiz said, smiling.
She smiled back, feeling good inside. Her hand felt right in his, and with Ruiz’s arm around her waist, his fingers lightly holding her, she realised she liked being part of a couple—this couple—however fleeting this chance of being with Ruiz might be. They moved well together, easily, as if they had been dancing this way all their lives. She had never made a show of herself like this before, yet here she was, dancing in public with a man born to use his body expertly, while she was twirling and flirting with her hips and with her eyes—
What was the worst that could happen? She could make a fool of herself? Something told her Ruiz would never allow that to happen.
‘You’re not even treading on my feet,’ he said dryly, dipping his head to direct this observation with a smile into her eyes.
‘Nor you on mine,’ she agreed.
‘Unusual for me,’ Ruiz remarked, smiling wickedly again.
She loved it when he teased her. She loved … Unfortunately for her peace of mind, she loved most things about Ruiz.
The samba was fast and flirty. If she had chosen to represent each of them with a dance it would be the passionate tango for Ruiz and an energetic barn dance with more gusto than panache for Holly. But somehow they were meeting in the middle with this highly charged, fast-moving pas de deux that left her little time to wonder if she was doing it right. No time to think, no time to feel self-conscious. Just fun and laughter, flashing eyes, and moving her body to the rhythm of the music in a way she wouldn’t have believed possible until tonight.
‘Now you’re really getting into it,’ Ruiz approved as he spun her round.
‘You know I’m only doing my best to keep up.’
‘No. You have a natural flair,’ Ruiz insisted, drawing her close again.
‘Not really. There are some great dancers here.’ And Ruiz was one of them, as every woman in the club seemed to agree. Thank goodness he couldn’t see her face, Holly thought as she relished the unaccustomed sensation of being pressed up close against him. Tough, hard and strong, Ruiz might look like a swarthy bad boy on the rampage, but he moved like a dream.
And this was a man whose reputation made Casanova seem like a choir boy. And what had happened the last time she had allowed herself to be lulled into a trancelike state by a good-looking man? Images of half-empty wine bottles and crisp packets piled up on a carpet of chocolate wrappers crowded into her head. Did she really want to go back there? Not that Ruiz had any need of her money.
‘I’ve lost you,’ he chided as the dance floor began to clear. ‘Where are you now, Holly? Worrying about the steps for the next dance?’ he suggested as the music started up again.
There couldn’t be a next dance if she wanted to keep any sense of reality where Ruiz was concerned. Her less than platonic feelings for him could only mean she was setting herself up for a fall. ‘Shouldn’t we be getting back for Bouncer?’
‘The dog?’ Ruiz gave her one of his looks. ‘Didn’t I take him out for the longest walk ever before we came here?’
‘He has been on his own for rather a long time.’
‘And will be asleep by now, I have no doubt,’ Ruiz assured her, his sexy eyes darkening in a smile. And then the infectious beat started up again. The moment his hand found the hollow in the small of her back she was lost. They were good together—frighteningly good.
When the dance ended Ruiz held her at arm’s length. ‘I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed myself so much, Holly.’
Was he serious? The adrenalin rush that had been brought on by dancing with Ruiz was subsiding, leaving a gap for Holly’s self-esteem issues to fill.
‘Thank you for tonight,’ he said.
‘I won’t put your toes in danger again, I promise.’
‘Where are you going?’ Ruiz caught hold of her.
‘To get my coat. To call a taxi.’ She held up her hand when Ruiz seemed as if he might argue with her. ‘You don’t have to leave. Thank you for a wonderful evening, Ruiz.’
Dipping his head low, Ruiz stared into her eyes. ‘Do you think I’m going to let you call a cab and leave the club on your own?’
‘I’m not a baby, Ruiz. And you don’t have to spoil your night just because I’m going home.’
‘I brought you here. I’m taking you home. And, anyway, it’s too late for you to be out on your own.’
If Ruiz was talking about the dangers of the night he would come top of her list. ‘I’ll be fine in a cab,’ Holly insisted. ‘If it makes you feel better, why don’t you call a reputable company of your own choosing?’
She was serious, he realised. He had to admire Holly’s strength of will. She was an independent woman and he respected that, but all he could think was how she’d felt in his arms when they danced together and how he didn’t want the evening to end. Holly was all woman—she just didn’t know it yet. Her hair had felt like spun silk beneath his hands and her body was—Now who was writing up a storm? ‘I’m taking you home,’ he said firmly, flashing a warning glance at his friends who had been viewing their little altercation from the bar.
* * *
She slept with Bouncer that night. Much safer. And as far as sex sells went, how about a snuffly dog with an ear-splitting snore? How well would that sell? ‘Oh, Bouncer,’ Holly complained softly as the big dog began to chase rabbits in his sleep. ‘I can see I’m not going to get any more rest tonight.’
Retrieving the duvet from the floor where Bouncer had kicked it, Holly glanced at the clock on the wall. Three a.m. Great. There was only one thing for it—she might as well start writing her next column. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have anything to say. Creeping out of the bedroom, she sat down at her usual place in the living room and began to write, and write. She soon had enough to fill a double-paged spread. Pausing for thought, she started thundering on the keyboard again, hardly realising that she was reasoning out her feelings for Ruiz—
The playboy is the youngest of a notorious band of polo-playing brothers and also the brother of my best friend, so of course we have a bond. He is someone I can be friends with, but nothing more—even if he wanted more, which, obviously, he doesn’t …
‘Don’t stop now—’
Holly swung round in shock to find Ruiz, barefoot in a black tee and boxers, standing behind her, blatantly reading her screen.
‘I was just enjoying that,’ he protested as she shut the lid on her laptop.
Her cheeks fired with embarrassment. ‘Don’t you have any manners?’
‘In the bedroom? Yes. In the office? No. This is your temporary office, isn’t it, Holly?’ And then, as if such a wealth of tan and muscle on so broad-shouldered a frame weren’t enough to scramble her brains completely, he leaned low to murmur, ‘We really have to stop meeting like this …’
‘I couldn’t agree more,’ she said primly, refusing absolutely to acknowledge the way Ruiz was making her feel.
‘Can I get you a drink?’ he said. ‘Hot milk, perhaps? Or cocoa?’
‘You can stop teasing me,’ she warned. Standing, she drew herself up to her full five feet three, which only succeeded in amusing Ruiz as she had to lean back to look him in the eye. But then she thought about what he’d said. ‘Am I really so boring that you think I need hot milk?’
‘I wouldn’t call you boring.’ Ruiz’s sexy mouth pressed down in wry conjecture as he pretended to think about it. ‘Irritating, maybe—’
‘Like an itch you can’t reach?’ she suggested dryly.
‘Oh, I can reach you,’ Ruiz assured her softly.
Not quite so sure she wanted to play this game any longer, Holly watched warily as Ruiz walked towards her. She couldn’t have been more surprised when he leaned forward to brush a kiss against her lips. Without meaning to, she swayed against him. He moved away.
‘See you in the morning, Holly.’
She stared after him, deciding her readers would never know what a close call she’d had.
* * *
Tactics that had worked so well for him in the past didn’t work with Holly. And he wouldn’t want them to, Ruiz concluded as he directed a frustrated punch at his pillow. Was she still working? Was she asleep? Closing his eyes, he tried running the company balance sheets in his head. That had always worked for him in the past, but not tonight, because tonight all he could see was Holly in overlarge pyjamas with her bare feet crossed and tucked neatly beneath the chair while she sat with her head bowed over her laptop, feverishly tapping away.
‘Ruiz?’
He shot up.
‘I’m sorry to disturb you,’ Holly murmured as she opened the door just a crack. ‘Bouncer was begging to go out and now he seems to have hurt his paw in the garden.’
‘You went outside at night on your own?’ He was halfway across the room by this time. ‘Don’t do that again,’ he said, striding past Holly towards the kitchen.
‘I didn’t have much choice,’ Holly insisted, catching up with him. ‘I bathed the paw,’ she explained as he hunkered down to take a look.
‘I can’t see anything,’ he admitted.
‘Neither could I. Maybe he trod on some glass? He was limping when he came back into the kitchen.’
‘Did you give him a biscuit when you brought him in?’
‘Why, yes, I did,’ Holly admitted. ‘And once I was sure he was okay I gave him another to reassure him.’
Ruiz grinned as he ruffled the big dog’s fur. ‘That’s one of Bouncer’s favourite tricks—limping, and then the hangdog expression. Works every time, doesn’t it, boy?’
‘He had me,’ Holly admitted ruefully, shooting Bouncer a hard stare. ‘I’m really sorry for getting you out of bed, Ruiz, especially as it looks like it was for nothing.’
‘Better safe than sorry,’ he observed, springing up.
He realised then how tiny Holly was in bare feet, and how big and clumsy he was by comparison. More concerning was the fact that he was only wearing boxers and a tee. ‘You’re not going back to work, are you?’ he asked as she turned for the door.
‘Maybe—I keep a personal diary too. Remember? I told you. Always have,’ she explained.
And wouldn’t he love to see that! ‘How does anyone find the time?’
‘Only child?’
‘Ah, yes. Lucia told me. No siblings to distract you.’ He realised then that Holly must have had plenty of time to record her thoughts, and that what had been a hobby to begin with had become a habit now. ‘So what was it like having my sister as a friend at boarding school?’ he asked curiously, not wanting Holly to go just yet.
She laughed. ‘Quite a shock to my system. I was an only child used to doing what I was told.’
‘And Lucia was a very different animal?’ Ruiz’s lips tugged. He understood.
* * *
How had she become best friends with the most attractive and outgoing girl in the school? Thinking back, Holly remembered Lucia not just being high spirited and up to mischief half of the time, but so incredibly warm, and interested in everyone—not unlike her brother, Ruiz. It was a tribute both to their good nature and to their brother Nacho, who had brought them up.
‘Lucia and I made quite a team,’ she explained. ‘We egged each other on and skated a very thin line between total exclusion from the school and one of our crazy ideas taking off. Lucky for us, one of our ideas worked so well we managed to get a whole pile of money from a government educational grant to develop our ecological project.’
‘Was that where the green hair came in?’
‘Are you accusing me of deliberately dying my hair green?’
‘Should I be?’ Ruiz said wryly.
‘It may have had something to do with it.’
‘So, in summary you were both holy terrors?’
‘You don’t know the half,’ Holly agreed.
‘Which is perhaps just as well,’ Ruiz commented, his ruggedly handsome face creasing in a rueful grin. ‘Well. I suppose I should turn in. Thanks for looking after our mutual friend.’
‘Don’t you want some ice cream?’
‘Ice cream?’
‘When it’s this late and you don’t want to start eating proper food again, ice cream fills a gap, I find.’
‘Does it?’ Ruiz said in a tone that made her toes curl. She was already rifling through the freezer box by this time, shaking convulsively and not with cold. She had never led a man on before. But this was new Holly, and there was a first time for everything …
Holly licked her lips when she found the carton of ice cream she was looking for. He realised then that had any other woman done that he would have interpreted the request as she would have wanted him to, but with Holly it was different. She was different. Meanwhile, Bouncer might not be the talking dog, but the big mutt had a very eloquent way of expressing himself. Currently stretched out in a contented sprawl snoring softly, Bouncer had clearly forgotten all thoughts of sore paws and looked as if everything in his world was going to plan.
Ruiz took up every available inch in the kitchen. There was no way past his bed-ruffled, barely clad form unless he backed out of her way. Stretching up, she tried reaching for two bowls, then, spotting something else, she changed her mind and grabbed a pack of ice-cream cornets instead. But now her hand was shaking so much she couldn’t get the ice-cream scoop to connect with the contents of the tub.
‘Here, let me help you with that,’ Ruiz offered. ‘If we put the scoop in boiling water first—’ He stopped. ‘Holly? You’re really shaking. Are you cold?’
‘Yes,’ she exclaimed, grabbing the cue Ruiz had given her like a life raft. Could desire do this to you? She had no idea what desire could do, having never felt anything to compare with this before. With her ex she had been so pathetically grateful that he noticed her at all that her own passion had never really come into it. She had been too busy trying to please him, to keep him, to keep his interest—
‘Why don’t you turn the heating up, while I serve the ice cream?’ Ruiz suggested, sounding as normal as ever, as if two people clad in nightclothes—one of them barely clad at all—could have a companionable chat in the middle of the night without feeling as incredibly aware as she did. Could she squeeze past him without touching? She glanced at the climate control on the wall, knowing she wasn’t even remotely cold, but it was too late to admit that now.
‘Come on,’ Ruiz prompted, pressing his muscular form back against the side to let her past.
Was he kidding? This was a really bad idea. She was hardly experienced enough to play flirting games with Ruiz, let alone rub past so much muscle. But she would have to …
Sucking in her stomach, she braced herself. Avoiding contact was impossible. Ruiz tried to help, but she still got stuck. ‘This is a tight squeeze,’ he observed dryly.
She tried to reach over him to the control, conscious all the time of his hot, hard, naked thigh pressed up against her. ‘You’re taking up all the space. I can’t reach anything. You’ll have to move.’
Please, please move—
Ruiz didn’t move a muscle. ‘I thought you said you needed warming up?’ he commented.
‘I do—’ Her hand flailed about searching for the elusive heat control, while her gaze never left Ruiz’s dark, amused stare. He might well look like that when her body had somehow moulded itself around his without any input from her at all.
‘Shall we forget about the ice cream?’ he asked.
Her breath hitched in her throat as Ruiz dipped his head towards her, but she had called it wrong. Instead of kissing her, as she had thought he might, he dabbled ice cream on her cheek. Exclaiming with surprise, she pushed him away. ‘You—!’
Ruiz seized her wrist and drew her close. ‘Don’t wipe it off,’ he said, frowning. ‘What a waste …’ She trembled uncontrollably as he moved her hand away and licked the ice cream from her face. She was still reeling from this when he dabbed some more on her neck. ‘This is delicious,’ he observed as coolly as if they were sharing a meal in a café.
Sweet sensation streamed through her veins, making her more reckless and excited. She reached one hand out, cautiously feeling for the tub, but Ruiz saw what she was doing and dodged out of her way, and the best she could manage was a glancing blow to his cheek. ‘How’s your temperature?’ she demanded, backing away to a safe distance.
‘Red hot,’ Ruiz assured her.
CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_dac1d9ee-e4f7-5eeb-a5f1-59d8729af4e6)
Have you ever felt that you were about to do something you might regret and yet were utterly powerless to stop yourself? Well, that’s where I am now. I could do with a gang of you turning up at the penthouse to drag me back from the lustful brink. But I should warn you that if you do I might not be all that pleased to see you.
Tomorrow’s another day? Yes, and I might need a hug by then. Maybe I’ll know what sex can be like when you choose the right man, but we all know that for every good thing that happens there’s the flip side of the coin, so I could be about to make the biggest mistake of my life.
And the playboy? The reason I’m telling you this is because there’s a look in his eyes I haven’t seen before, and after months of telling myself I don’t need men I suddenly thought, Do I want to spend the rest of my life wondering what I’ve missed?
COULD she remember all that? She could hardly race to the laptop now. ‘The writer of this column is otherwise engaged and seems likely to be so for quite some time’ was one heck of a headline, but was this moment something she wanted to share with the world? ‘How is it possible I’m covered in ice cream while you have a magic ring of protection around you?’ Holly demanded excitedly, playing for time. She shrieked as Ruiz prowled closer, while he just grinned and shrugged.
Why was she out of ammunition? Holly’s chaotic thoughts refused to assemble into a coherent form as she backed away. It wasn’t a fresh tub of ice cream she needed, but a long, cold shower and a few miles’ distance between them. What had she been thinking? That she could play games with Ruiz and there would be no consequences? ‘Okay. I give up.’ She raised her hands in defeat. ‘You’re better at this than I am—’
‘What do you expect with three brothers and a sister? I’ve been having food fights since I could lift a spoon.’
An only child could only dream of having this much fun, but at least Ruiz had ceased hostilities for now. She breathed a sigh of relief as she tried to retrieve a blob of ice cream that had landed on her chest before it could trickle any lower. But this brief pause in the ice-cream war didn’t mean she liked losing. Sneakily reaching for the tub, she launched a counter attack, and, though Ruiz had the reflexes of a fighter pilot, she managed to score a hit on his mouth.
‘You’ll pay for that,’ he warned, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.
Holly sincerely hoped so. The fears that had haunted her for so long had been consumed in the fire burning in Ruiz’s eyes. It was enough to make anyone hot and reckless. She held her breath as he prowled closer. Seconds ticked away and then they both launched an attack at the same moment. A fast and furious battle ensued. Ruiz was so much stronger and faster than she was, but she was fast enough, and fiercely competitive. Everything became a blur of limbs and flying ice cream. She managed to put the island counter between them, a barricade that gave her chance to draw breath. Lifting her chin, panting and gloating, she taunted Ruiz across the gleaming stretch of granite.
He vaulted over it. ‘Now what are you going to do?’ he said, holding her in front of him.
She hummed, glaring at him defiantly. Struggling was pointless. Ruiz’s grip was light, yet firm, while she was consumed by excitement and covered in sticky ice cream. This was hardly the moment to assume the moral high ground. Resting back in his arms, she began to laugh.
‘What?’ he said.
Every part of her was tingling and aware. She was free. ‘Nothing you need to know,’ she said, straightening up to deliver a challenging stare into Ruiz’s eyes.
He had never wanted her more. His virtuous resolutions to steer clear of Lucia’s friend were history. He was more interested in licking Holly clean. He kissed her cheek, her neck, tasting her, and then he tasted her some more. ‘You’re delicious,’ he commented as she wriggled in his arms, helpless with laughter.
‘And so are you—’
He wasn’t prepared for her whipping up his tee, and holding it while she licked the sugared cream from his chest. He sucked in a sharp breath and his surprise didn’t lessen with the look she gave him. Her eyes blazed with fire and the sort of confidence he knew was buried deep inside. ‘Kiss me,’ she demanded fiercely, making it sound like a challenge as she locked her hands behind his head.
A challenge? This was a pleasure. The kiss was long and hot and deep. She tasted warm and sweet, and fiercely female. There was nothing girlie, soft, or vulnerable about Holly now. This was an equal match between a woman intent on claiming her mate, and a man who rejoiced in her strength as he lifted her.
She had never done anything remotely like this before—had never clawed at a man’s clothes, hungry to feel his naked body hard against her. There was nothing delicate or tender happening here. She was burning up from the inside out.
Buttons from her pyjama top flew across the kitchen and skittered across the floor as she yanked Ruiz’s top over his head. He only paused briefly to protect them both, and then he took over, resting her on the side as he pushed the top from her shoulders and the pyjama pants from her legs. His clothes dropped to the floor. Excited sounds escaped her lips. Ruiz’s naked torso was stronger, harder, warmer, more beautiful than even she had imagined. The wide spread of his muscular shoulders was enough to turn her on, but it was the look in his eyes that really did it for her, because that promised more excitement than she had ever known. Holding Ruiz’s darkening gaze, she traced the pattern of muscle and sinew from his breastbone to his shoulder, then down over his biceps to his forearms, and on to his hands and the lean, elegant fingers. ‘Now,’ she whispered urgently.
He brushed his mouth against her lips—a promise that wasn’t enough for her now. ‘Don’t tease me,’ she warned him. But he did, brushing his lips and his stubble against her neck and her cheek, and then her lips, promising, always promising, yet pulling away before she could taste him. He repeated this until her body was a furnace and she was wild for him.
As Holly pressed herself against him he tested her and found her ready. He still took his time, teasing her for as long as he had with kisses. She moaned with need when he gave her the tip and then exclaimed with disappointment when he took it away again. She shivered and opened herself more for him, pressing her thighs back as he touched her, crying when he paused. He dipped again, a little deeper this time, and then retreated. She was so moist, so warm, so completely ready for him, but even with the thought of that tight wet grip waiting to claim him banging at his brain he knew it would be better for her if he made her wait.
‘I can’t stand this,’ she raged in a shaking voice.
‘You have to,’ he whispered. ‘It will be all the better for it—’
‘Really?’ she exclaimed, and, arching forward without warning, she took him. She took him. He gasped and shuddered with surprise, slammed by an overload of sensation. ‘Steady,’ he cautioned as her fingers bit into his buttocks. ‘If you do that,’ he warned as she bucked and arced against him, ‘it will all be over too soon—’
She ignored him. Screaming out his name, she plunged headlong into the first climax. It was a battle to hold her in place as she thrust her hips frantically to claim each wave of pleasure as it hit her. ‘You’re so big,’ she groaned with satisfaction as the storm subsided.
‘I aim to please,’ he managed to say wryly, keeping up a steady rhythm until she was ready to start again. ‘I trust that wasn’t a complaint,’ he added in a husky whisper against her mouth, unable to resist the temptation to kiss her again.
‘A complaint?’ she murmured when he released her. ‘I trust that was just a sample?’
He laughed. She was ready for more and this time she didn’t want any distractions. Taking him in an even firmer hold, she ground out, ‘Don’t tease me—Don’t wait—Don’t stop—’
‘You’re incredible,’ he said. And it was true. He’d met his match.
They feasted on each other, and neither of them tired. He persuaded her to hold her thighs back so he could increase her pleasure. It was then he discovered that she loved to watch. ‘You’re quite something,’ he murmured, accommodating that wish too. Arranging her comfortably with one leg over his shoulder and one tiny foot on the counter, he worked steadily to keep her hovering on the edge, but this was the hottest woman he’d ever known. Could he hold on? ‘I’ll tell you when,’ he instructed, staring deep into her eyes.
Her retaliation was swift and fierce, ‘Don’t make me wait,’ she warned him. ‘Don’t you dare make me wait—’
‘Now,’ he commanded, taking her with a firm, deep thrust. The sound of her voice—the language she used—all of it increased his pleasure tenfold and this time they rode the storm together, inventing a new erotic dictionary along the way.
They must have been unconscious for a few moments, Holly thought as she slowly came round to find Ruiz resting against her, breathing steadily, still holding her safe in his arms.
‘What?’ he murmured, raising his head to look at her.
A sudden rush of doubt swept through her at the thought of what they’d done. Without the same hunger driving her she had too much time to think.
‘Holly?’ Ruiz prompted, sensing the change in her.
‘Nothing,’ she said. But there was something wrong, and they both knew it. A game that had started out so innocently had turned into something so much more.
‘Do you regret it?’ Ruiz asked with concern.
‘No, of course not.’ Reaching up, she closed her eyes and kissed him, but the doubts refused to go away.
‘You’re not frightened of me, are you?’ Ruiz demanded softly when they broke apart.
Nothing could be further from the truth. She wasn’t frightened of Ruiz. She was frightened of her feelings for him.
Cupping her chin so she couldn’t avoid his gaze, Ruiz demanded, ‘Is there someone else?’
That was so ridiculous she laughed. ‘There’s no one else,’ she exclaimed. But Ruiz was partly right, even if he was wholly wrong. She was completely here in the moment with him, but the past couldn’t be erased, and she couldn’t forget that when her ex had come on the scene she had been so grateful, so thrilled by the attention he lavished on her, she had fallen for it—for him—to the extent that she would have trusted him with her life. Fortunately, she had only trusted him with her bank card, but her small pot of savings had disappeared just the same. No wonder she doubted her own judgment now.
Ruiz eased her carefully down, making sure she was steady on her feet before he let her go. ‘Forget him,’ he said in a voice she had never heard him use before. ‘Whoever he was he can’t hurt you now. I won’t let anyone hurt you, Holly. You have to learn from the past and move on. Don’t you think you can? Why not? When we first met you weren’t sure you could make it as a journalist, but look at you now. Where has that woman gone?’
‘On permanent vacation?’ She smiled wryly to make light of it, but Ruiz wasn’t in the mood for a joke and told her so. ‘It’s time to give yourself a break, Holly.’
‘And it’s time you stopped being kind to me for your sister’s sake,’ she fired back, knowing even as she said it that she was allowing the past to spoil things for her.
‘You think I’m being kind to you?’ Ruiz said.
‘What can I think when you’ve already told me that being kind to me for Lucia’s sake is what you feel obliged to do?’
‘You’re twisting my words. You should have more confidence in yourself Holly.’
She dragged in a shuddering breath as Ruiz’s lips brushed her cheek and then her neck, and finally her mouth. She wanted nothing more than to believe him.
‘You’re still too serious,’ he said, drawing back to look at her, but then his wicked mouth tugged in a smile, ‘and here was me thinking I had done everything possible to make you smile.’
She huffed and relaxed a little. Everything they had shared was reflected in Ruiz’s eyes. It was both arousing and terrifying.
‘More ice cream?’ Ruiz suggested, refusing to be drawn into her dark mood.
‘You’re very bad.’ But her voice was trembling as Ruiz’s lips brushed her neck.
‘It’s your turn to lick me clean,’ he observed, staring down at her with a mock-stern expression on his face. ‘You started this game and now you have to finish it.’
She laughed. Holly touched him in a way no other woman had. He was so acutely tuned in to her he could feel all her hopes and fears, and not for the first time wished he could meet the man who had hurt her so badly. He wanted to keep her safe—
Safe from him?
He brushed that thought aside as she stared at his lips. He had never felt this way before. He had always held his feelings in, knowing Nacho had had enough to contend with bringing up three brothers and a sister. Holly had always kept her feelings in—they both had; that was their bond.
‘What are you thinking?’ she said quietly.
That Ruiz the fixer had always managed to fix himself, but now there was Holly in the frame. ‘Are you refusing to finish this game?’ The heat was rising. He could see it in her eyes. He wanted Holly to forget the past with all its false promises and disappointments. ‘As it’s you I’ll permit the use of a clean cloth rather than your tongue,’ he teased. ‘I realise now that licking is only for the advanced class.’
‘Don’t you take anything seriously?’ she asked, wondering how she was supposed to resist a man whose eyes were always so warm.
Ruiz pretended to think about it. ‘The health of my polo ponies? I take that sort of thing very seriously indeed. But ice cream fights?’ His lips curved in a wry smile as he shook his head. ‘Sorry to disappoint you, Holly.’
‘What are you doing?’ she said as he drew her close.
‘Now I know you’re not that naïve.’
‘Ruiz—’ That was as far as she got.
‘I want you,’ he said. ‘What you see is what you get with me, Holly. There is no hidden agenda. And I think you want me too. Am I wrong?’
How could she deny it? Confronted by this much strength of will she might have expected to feel weak or vulnerable, but she felt neither of those things. She felt strong. The strongest man she had ever known had made her feel confident in her own right.
‘Are we going to stand here all day?’ he demanded, brushing his lips against her cheek and then her neck. ‘Or am I going to take you to bed?’
She was on fire for him, and as Ruiz’s hold softened into a caress she linked her hands behind his neck and let him lift her.
Ruiz carried her into the bedroom and laid her down carefully on the bed. Every instant apart from him seemed like a minute, every minute an hour. She reached for him hungrily, wanting him so strongly nothing could stop this. Ruiz’s kiss was like the first time all over again, and so gentle her eyes stung to think he could be so tender. She hadn’t expected such reverence. She was a plain, down-to-earth woman and expected to be treated as such, but Ruiz was kissing her as if she were made of the finest glass and might shatter in his arms if he held her too tightly. ‘You’re beautiful,’ he murmured.
‘No, I’m not.’
‘If I say you’re beautiful you should believe me.’
‘I’m far too big,’ she interrupted, trying to cross her arms over her breasts.
‘How can you be too big when the top of your head barely reaches my chest? And your breasts are beautiful.’
She didn’t argue when Ruiz lay beside her. Or when she shivered with pleasure as he dipped his head to lave first one nipple and then the other with his tongue so skilfully she writhed urgently on the bed, instantly hungry for him. When one powerful thigh pressed against her legs she welcomed him with a sharp cry of need, responding greedily by arching against the brutal thrust of his erection, demanding release.
She might have known he’d make her wait, and now she was all the more excited, knowing what lay in store for her. He protected them both again. Protection was for the woman to think about, she remembered her ex telling her—
She must have been mad. And desperate, Holly thought as Ruiz took her in his arms. ‘No more shadows,’ he whispered as if he knew where her thoughts had been straying. ‘You’re beautiful, and I want you, Holly. It’s that simple.’
Stroking the hair back from her face, he kissed her repeatedly, and when she felt the tip of his erection brush against her she almost lost control. ‘Greedy,’ he murmured, soothing her when she groaned with complaint. Moving on top of her, he warmed her with kisses, cupping her buttocks as he positioned her for pleasure. This was more leisurely, allowing them to relish each sensation to the full. She pressed her hands against his chest, staring up into his eyes.
‘Good?’ he murmured.
‘So good …’ Holding his gaze, she was able to share the moment when the smooth warm tip of Ruiz’s erection probed delicately before withdrawing again. It was an incredible sensation, and sucked every last shuddering breath of air out of her. He repeated the action so it was like the first time every time. He was giving her a master class in foreplay with such a concentration of sensation it wasn’t long before she had to thrust towards him and take him deep—and she was still astonished by the size of him.
‘How about we take it more slowly?’ Ruiz suggested with amusement.
‘You dare,’ she warned him, wondering if it was really possible to be stretched like this and survive the pleasure. ‘I’ll take it anyway you like,’ she managed shakily.
Ruiz soothed her with one hand while he increased her pleasure with the other. ‘Don’t be scared, I’ve got you,’ he said, reading her.
‘But it’s too much,’ she exclaimed frantically. ‘Too big …’
‘I decide when,’ Ruiz told her, perfectly in control.
She trusted him and stared deep into his eyes as he held her firmly in position to take her on an effortless slide into a world of sensation. ‘I can’t hold on,’ she cried at last.
‘You’re not supposed to,’ Ruiz assured her with amusement. Taking her deep with several firm, sure strokes, he thrust her over the edge where she had no option but to fall, clutching at him wildly as a starburst of sensation exploded in her head.
He held her in his arms as she slowly subsided. Holly was like an open book, pure and true, but was he ready for this wealth of feeling? He had often joked with his brothers about finding a woman who meant more to him than any other. They had tossed the idea around and concluded that as the youngest, it definitely wouldn’t be Ruiz first. Probably wouldn’t be him ever. Where would he find someone to put up with him? And if he did it would be years from now. He was too wild, too selfish, too unworthy of the sort of commitment and responsibility that came with devoting himself to one person, because that was what love meant to him—
Love?
He actually laughed out loud, and then felt guilty when Holly lifted her sated face to search his eyes. Smoothing the hair from her damp brow, he reassured her with murmured words and kisses. But she wasn’t entirely convinced. ‘What was that about?’ she murmured groggily.
‘You,’ he said. ‘You’re lovely—I can’t believe you’re here with me.’
‘Didn’t you get that the wrong way round?’ she queried sleepily.
‘I got it exactly right,’ he said. And she didn’t deserve to be hurt.
‘Lovely?’ she said, wrinkling her nose. ‘You really think I’m lovely?’
‘Lovely and funny, and … you make me laugh,’ he finished, not used to such feelings bombarding him. ‘You’re a lovely person, Holly.’
‘Ah,’ she breathed, turning her face into his chest.
Reading her insecurities, he could have kicked himself. ‘Don’t you dare,’ he warned. Holding Holly in his arms, he realised the past haunted them both. He had worried his little sister could hear their parents fighting. And like the rest of the Acosta boys, he had struggled to understand his father’s infidelities. He’d seen the hurt in his mother’s eyes. He’d seen the so-called perfect family torn apart, until all that was left was a band of brothers with a sister to protect. He would never go down that road. The thought of turning out like his father was his worst nightmare. He had no intention of settling down with a woman until all the fire had left his veins and the only thing that mattered to him was holding someone’s hand …
‘Where are you now?’ Holly murmured. ‘And where are you going?’ she said as he grabbed a towel from the bed and made for the door. ‘I’m going to take a shower,’ he said, securing the towel around his waist. His heart filled and when she smiled back at him his mind was made up.
She could use a break, Holly concluded wryly, stretching her glowing limbs contentedly. She was still in a wonderfully dreamy recovery state, and had been worrying that she might not be able to gather herself fast enough to satisfy a man like Ruiz. Keeping up with a man like that would require regular training sessions, she reflected happily. She looked up with surprise when he came back into the room, but it was only to drop a kiss on her swollen mouth. ‘Where are you going now?’ she demanded softly, reaching up to him.
‘Goodnight, Holly …’
Smiling drowsily, she stared into the impossibly beautiful eyes, wondering if now was the moment to admit that Ruiz had exhausted her, but with a little sleep she’d be—
‘Try not to oversleep,’ he was telling her. ‘I know you’ve got work tomorrow and I don’t want you to be late because I kept you up half the night. Would you like me to set your alarm for you?’
She started to frown, realising that all the heat had gone from his eyes.
‘I’d never forgive myself if I were the cause of putting a curb on your career,’ he murmured, caressing her face.
He was talking about work now? Ice filled her veins. This wasn’t good. ‘There are plenty of things to worry about apart from work,’ she said. ‘Wasn’t that what you told me?’
‘So I did,’ Ruiz agreed. ‘And there’s something else. The repairs on my town house are nearly complete so I’ll be getting out of your hair soon.’
And that was good? Ruiz seemed to think so. Maybe her brain had been blown to mush by so much amazing sex, but that did not sound good to Holly.
Lifting the duvet, Ruiz pulled it up to her chin—an action that smacked more of consideration for a maiden aunt with an attack of the vapours than a crazy-for-you, I-want-to-keep-you-warm-for-the-very-few-minutes-I’m-away-from-your-side action. ‘I don’t want to get too comfortable,’ she complained, throwing it off again. ‘I might go to sleep if I do—’
‘You should sleep well now, Holly.’
‘Only for a few seconds.’ She laughed, but something warned her to stop talking—that this was a train wreck and she was in the middle of it. Reaching up she put her hands flat against Ruiz’s chest. They’d been as intimate as two people could be, but instead of feeling any response from him all she could feel was the play of muscle beneath her hands. ‘Polo must be some game,’ she said lamely.
‘It is.’
And Ruiz had already left her, she registered.
What had she done? What had she done wrong?
She had allowed herself to want more than Ruiz was prepared to give her, Holly reasoned as he walked across the room. She wanted all of him, not just the sex. She wanted his warmth and his humour, his intelligence and perception, and the friendship that brought them close, making them, she had believed, trusting and trusted. She did not want this cold little voice inside her saying this same thing had happened to her before.
Not quite the same—
Not the same at all, Holly reassured herself. Not so many kisses and caresses, and no genuine affection of any kind. No affection at all, in fact. Her ex had been nothing like Ruiz.
‘Sleep now,’ Ruiz whispered from the door.
Burying her face in the pillow, she went tense all over as if that could shut out what was happening, but she only knew one way to give and that was wholeheartedly. She couldn’t divide parts of herself off and hold them back. Perhaps men could do that.
Okay, she could deal with this, Holly told herself fiercely, swinging off the bed as the door closed. Chasing after Ruiz wasn’t the answer. She had no one to blame but herself. Good-looking man notices plain, uncertain Holly, and bam! She’s grateful. Worse. She’s hungry for affection and blind to common sense—
But Ruiz had made her feel beautiful …
No. She had allowed Ruiz to make her feel beautiful and desired, because that was what she had wanted. She had bought into the fantasy while telling her readers so earnestly that casual encounters weren’t cool, they were dangerous—especially for anyone with an iota of feeling inside them. Regrets? She only had to think about the letters pouring into the agony-aunt office to know that the majority of people writing those letters lived with regret. And now she was one of them. How badly had she let her readers down?
She took a shower, thinking that would help, but she was left with exactly the same absurd impression that Ruiz was special and mustn’t be allowed to slip through her fingers. That he was one of a kind—one of her kind; the only man she would ever want and would measure every other man against—
Oh, to hell with that! Holly thought impatiently, tugging on fresh nightclothes. This wasn’t love, it was lust. Those sexy eyes, that incredible body and the humorous curve of Ruiz’s lips would be any woman’s downfall.
No. Dropping onto the bed to stare blindly at the ceiling, she was finally prepared to admit that Holly Valiant’s downfall was all her own doing and that Ruiz had merely been a willing accomplice.
And love?
Love didn’t come into it, Holly told her inner voice coldly. Ruiz had been caught up in the moment and she had too. At least he hadn’t presented her with a bill, which was pretty much what her ex had done. Shaking her head, Holly remembered that classic excuse when she had challenged her ex about emptying her bank account. ‘Consider it payment for services rendered,’ he’d said. ‘You don’t think I’d do it for free with you, do you?’ With that ringing in her ears it was no wonder she had a few issues where men were concerned—
But Ruiz wasn’t that man. And she was a survivor who could put experiences like that behind her. Hadn’t she already shown she could do that? Wasn’t that why she was here now? She just had to get a handle on how she felt about Ruiz and remember that thunderbolts struck other people—in novels, mostly. They certainly didn’t strike Holly Valiant. Tonight she had lapsed from the path she wanted to take, but she would be firmly back in control by tomorrow.
She lay in bed listening to the wind in the trees, and remained in the same lifeless position until everything in the apartment went quiet. It occurred to her that Ruiz wouldn’t be lying in bed staring at the ceiling as he raked over the events of the night. This was, after all, just one day in the life of a playboy. Turning her face into the pillow, she wished briefly with amusement that she had her own agony aunt to write to and ask for advice, but then accepted she’d got it right from the start with rule number one: rely on no one but yourself.
* * *
Holly was a fixture in Ruiz’s head the next morning as he pounded down the staircase to the street rather than taking the lift in the penthouse. He couldn’t stop beating himself up about what had happened. She was new to London—and vulnerable. And his sister’s friend. And he didn’t need reminding about the world of inexperience on Holly’s side and the equal amount of should-know-better on his. Exiting the building he saw his breath turn to frost. It made him long for the warmth of Argentina. Seeing Holly in Argentina away from her computer and the fantasy life she was weaving, Holly relaxed and happy, living in the real world for once … But he had meant it when he’d told Holly he would never stand in the way of her career. She had come so far since moving to London and had never made any secret of the fact that her career meant everything to her. He should be exhilarated at the thought of returning to Argentina, just as he should be happy for Holly. She was a proper city girl now—a survivor, successful and driven—
But he had hoped for more.
Ruiz frowned as he gunned the engine and pulled out onto an almost empty London street. Thank goodness today was all about business and he’d have no chance to think about Holly at all. It had to be early, he reflected wryly, for the streets of London to be this deserted. He’d lain awake after he’d left her, thinking, trying not to feel … In the end, he just left her a note warning her how cold it was and advising her to wrap up—
Holly …
He wasn’t doing all that well at shutting his mind to her, Ruiz reflected. But he must. He would. He had to fly to Argentina for the match and would stay on for a while. Resting his chin on his arm as he waited for the lights to change, he remembered how Holly had felt in his arms, and her fresh, clean smell with the hint of vanilla—
Put Holly out of his mind? He might as well try to stop the breath in his chest. Nothing could steal away that look in her eyes when she gazed into his. Holly, dazzling and tender, quirky and funny, had a permanent place in his head. Holly wry, Holly angry, Holly spirited, taking him on. Holly hot as hell and sexy as sin—
Holly innocent and vulnerable.
Regrets?
She had them. And now he did too.
CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_16cb83ce-7e30-5843-b5ac-f7a5df5ffca9)
I have allowed myself to believe the playboy and I have something going on. How? Last night we got close—closer than I’m comfortable sharing in a public forum such as this.
Then he said his place was fixed and he’d be out of my hair shortly. Please don’t pity me! I can do that for myself. And he wasn’t proposing to turn the penthouse into a gilded cage where I can recline and paint my toenails until he finds time to visit, because as far as the playboy is concerned I am yesterday’s news. Better to have lusted and lost than never to have lusted at all? Maybe we’ve all thought that at one time or another. Maybe we’ve all been wrong.
And the playboy? He’s just the same—i.e. confident and busy, leaving me to get on with my life while he gets on with his. Which is ideal—or it should be, but I want someone to share things with, without getting laughed at or dismissed and he would never do that. I’d like to be part of his life—the private part that doesn’t get written about—little things like sharing glances and second-guessing each other that’s nothing and everything in the end. Maybe I deserve your pity after all …
SHE had got exactly what she deserved for allowing reality and fantasy to collide, Holly concluded, impatiently dashing away tears as she walked back to the penthouse after taking Bouncer for his early morning walk. She and Ruiz might have clung to each other and gazed into each other’s eyes, and in the throes of passion she might have believed anything was possible, but he was still going back to Argentina.
Leaving her to get on with her career. Wasn’t that exactly what she wanted? What she should want? What it was safest to want? So, why did she feel as if the bottom had just dropped out of her world?
This was all grist to the publishing mill, Holly concluded as she opened the door on an empty apartment. She should make use of the angst and write something to entertain. No one read the ‘Living with a Playboy’ feature to hear her moaning. She’d make something funny out of it—
Really?
So the idea just hadn’t come to her yet, Holly reasoned, gazing out of the window at the frigid London street with its powdering of frost. But it would, she determined, stripping off her coat. Flinging her beanie and scarf onto a chair, she tossed out her hair. Ruiz was right about it being freezing outside. But why should he care if she was well wrapped up or not? Perhaps he didn’t like the idea of his dog-walker-in-chief getting sick—
Enough Ruiz.
Enough! Enough! Out of my head now!
There was something she wanted to do before she left for work, and it did run contrary to rule number one: rely on no one but yourself. But desperate times called for desperate measures. Most of the mail for the agony-aunt column came in anonymously—and who needed help more than she did? She hurried to her laptop and quickly created an e-mail address for this one, very special purpose, and then, typing in the message, she pressed Send before she had the chance to change her mind.
So this is what it feels like to be a dedicated career woman, Holly reflected, ready for work, having applied more make-up than usual. Were her lips supposed to feel as if they were superglued together? Grimacing as she peeled them apart, she removed the overdose of gloss with a tissue, then reclaimed her nightclothes from the floor where Ruiz had flung them the night before. Resolutely shutting her mind to thoughts of how they had come to be on the floor, she tossed them into the washing basket, but then she couldn’t resist plucking out the top again on the pretext of checking if it had more than one button missing. She held it briefly to her face and inhaled, as if Ruiz’s spicy scent might still linger in the brushed cotton folds.
What was she doing? She wanted no reminders of last night. Dropping the top into the basket, she picked up the cryptic note Ruiz had left her about the cold weather and aimed it at the bin. She was ready for anything now—and positively buzzing with ideas for the column. Last night was another learning experience in her new London life, and this morning was a reflection of the woman she had become, i.e. tough Holly—tougher, anyway. Holly who could handle anything, Holly who had grown up overnight and who no one would ever accuse of being naïve again.
She carried that thought to the office, where she was relieved to be rushed off her feet. It gave her no time to think—except about Ruiz, who coloured all her thoughts. They were so busy on the agony-aunt column it looked as if they might have to recruit more people to handle the level of traffic the web site was attracting, not to mention the circulation boost the magazine had received.
All thanks to your column, Holly was told to her embarrassment. ‘We’re a team,’ she insisted as everyone from the neighbouring offices gathered round her.
‘And the team loves reading about your disastrous love life,’ someone commented, which made everyone else laugh.
‘Who doesn’t love to sit knitting at the foot of the guillotine?’ another colleague added with brutal honesty and an ironic laugh.
But it was just that bad, Holly thought, wishing she could write her own happy ending. Then one of the men from marketing distracted her by brandishing a copy of the magazine. ‘Your private life’s not your own any more, Holly. It belongs to all of us now.’
‘Great.’ She forced a laugh.
‘Listen up, everyone,’ one of the girls announced, reading from the monitor. ‘You won’t believe what some idiot has written.’
Holly knew. She knew immediately and only wished she could disappear in a puff of smoke, but it was too late as her colleagues had already rounded her up and were shepherding her towards the screen.
The girl started reading Holly’s message: ‘“I’ve just met a really hot guy, which is great. What’s not so great is that I slept with him on practically the first night when I know the relationship isn’t going anywhere. It certainly can’t now as he just told me he’s moving on. I know you’ll say I should forget him and move on myself. And I would. I really would, but I think I’ve fallen for him …” Can you believe anyone would be that stupid?’ the girl demanded, directing the question at Holly.
‘Don’t be harsh,’ Holly blurted, blushing furiously.
‘No, you’re right,’ the girl agreed when everyone had finally calmed down and stopped laughing. ‘That was bitchy of me. And we’ve all been there, haven’t we?’
When Holly’s colleagues finally calmed down and agreed with this, their team leader, who was in the best of moods for once, called for silence. ‘I’ve got some really good news for all of us. Since the playboy told our beloved redhead Holly that they were splitting, hits to the web site are threatening to crash the system.’
‘Hasn’t the “Living with a Playboy” feature almost run its course?’ Holly suggested desperately, not wanting to go any deeper into this. ‘Should we be thinking of going out on a high? Maybe trying to come up with a new idea for a fresh column?’ She was clutching at straws, Holly realised when she saw the disapproval on her team leader’s face.
‘Are you mad?’ he demanded. ‘Don’t even think about finishing it. Most of the hits are on your page. Your love life is such a mess everyone feels confident writing to you.’
‘Oh, good. My life is a disaster, so everyone’s happy—’
‘Don’t be so naïve, Holly. This is fiction. Keep up the misery,’ the team leader advised. ‘It sells almost as well as sex.’
Everyone laughed except Holly, who had closed her mind to the problems of real life and was already constructing her next headline: Fall in love with his dog by all means, but don’t fall in love with him—especially if you expect the same level of loyalty and affection you get from his furry friend.
* * *
When she got back to the penthouse Holly’s heart almost stopped when she found Ruiz already back from work. He was lounging on the sofa in the living room with one jean-clad leg crossed nonchalantly over the other, the sleeves rolled back on his checked shirt—
Forearms bared meant action, Holly thought, feeling a jolt as her sixth sense kicked in. Ruiz had made no secret of the fact that he would be leaving soon for the polo match in Argentina. How soon? Very soon? She could sense change in the air. And then she saw what he was looking at. ‘What’s this?’ he demanded, swinging his laptop round so she could see the screen.
‘Fiction,’ she said flatly. He’d read her latest article, which was less than complimentary about him and even less kind to her. It was the type of relationship screw-up the team leader had asked for, and, because she was still stinging from Ruiz’s cold dismissal and the thought of him leaving for Argentina, for once she’d given her team leader what he’d asked for—no holds barred. ‘Don’t you like it?’ she asked Ruiz, aching inside.
‘It doesn’t matter what I think,’ he said, closing the lid. ‘It’s up to your readers, though you make your feelings clear enough.’
Wait until he read tomorrow’s column, Holly thought, wondering briefly if she should tone it down, and then deciding not. ‘I’m a journalist, Ruiz.’
‘You mean you make things up,’ he said, his eyes dark and watchful.
‘You know I do. I’ve never made any secret of the fact that the “Living with a Playboy” feature is a fiction—a piece of light entertainment to increase reader interest in the agony-aunt column.’
‘A feature for which I am the inspiration.’
‘I have never made a secret of that either.’
Ruiz wouldn’t look at her. But he had always known what she was doing. She must appear as nonchalant as he did. The sex had been spectacular between them last night, but acting cool the morning after was the only thing she could do to protect herself. So what would she tell her readers? She would heap on the misery as she’d been asked to, Holly concluded. ‘What’s wrong, Ruiz?’
‘You say this is fiction?’ He glanced at the laptop. ‘But I think this must reflect your true feelings, at least a little.’ And as such it hurt like hell, Ruiz concluded angrily. On the back of it he’d made a lot of changes—like hiring a housekeeper to take care of Bouncer while he was gone. ‘I think you’ve started believing your own fiction, Holly.’
‘What?’ She laughed incredulously. ‘It’s just work. That’s what I do.’
‘Then I don’t like what you do.’
The room hung in frigid silence. Holly felt as if the sword of Damocles were hanging by a thread above her head. She knew the sword had to fall, it was just a question of when and how fast.
So get out of its way—
‘I’ll go and put these things away, if you don’t mind?’ she said, glancing at the shopping bags of food she had brought in.
‘When you’ve done that, come back. We need to talk.’
She felt dead inside. There was nothing in Ruiz’s voice to suggest that last night had meant anything to him. Just as she had suspected, he had already moved on.
She went into the kitchen, where Bouncer came snuffling up to her, his big brown eyes soulful as if the dog sensed her tension and wanted to defuse it. ‘I won’t leave you,’ Holly vowed fiercely. ‘I’ll find somewhere to live where you can come with me.’ She glanced at the door behind which the man she had been so confident she could turn into a fiction, and who had somehow become so much more than that, was waiting for her.
She’d miss him when he left.
Squeezing back tears, she made do with hugging Ruiz’s dog. ‘I love you, Bouncer,’ she said passionately, releasing some of the tension. It wasn’t right to feel like this about a man. No excuses. She’d known all along how dangerous it was to risk her heart.
‘I thought you were going to put that shopping away and then come back and talk?’
Collecting herself quickly, Holly looked up to find Ruiz lounging in the doorway. His arms were folded across his formidable chest, and his voice, his body, his eyes especially—eyes she had stared into with love, and into which she had placed her trust—everything drew her to him. She couldn’t change her feelings where Ruiz was concerned just because it was safer to do so or because she willed it. She could write whatever she liked in the column, but reality refused to be manipulated. ‘I’m just sorting stuff out,’ she managed casually.
‘Well, don’t take all evening.’
The playboy might be a fictional figure, but Ruiz was all too real. And so were her feelings for him. Finding the doggy treats she’d bought at the supermarket, she tried telling herself it wasn’t all bad as Bouncer’s tail thanked her profusely. At least she’d made one good friend in London. But there was really only one friend and lover she could ever want, and he plainly wasn’t interested.
She took her time, had a shower and changed into jeans before returning to the living room where Ruiz was working on his laptop. ‘You’re leaving soon, aren’t you?’ She had to challenge him before he could make the announcement. Ruiz’s answer was to indicate the space next to him on the sofa. She sat as far away from him as she could, determined not to let him see how she felt about his silence. She wondered then if Ruiz had any lingering memories of her touch, or her kisses, as she had of his. Did men even bank physical memories like a woman, to pull out and review later?
She had to stop thinking like that, or she’d break down. She should have had a good howl in the shower to get this out of her system. The way Ruiz was acting, so casual and normal as if this was just another day, she couldn’t bear it. The greatest intimacy of all seemed to have pushed them apart, and she of all people should have known the risks: don’t tie me down, don’t ask me to commit. It was, after all, a favourite topic in the column. Friends were bound by loving ties even if they didn’t see each other for years, but sleep with a friend and that changed everything, because you ran the risk of becoming a nuisance, a potential curb on your friend’s freedom.
‘Are you okay?’ Ruiz glanced at her with concern as she sucked in a couple of steadying breaths.
‘I’m fine, thank you. So when are you going?’
‘Soon. Very soon. But that’s not what I want to talk to you about.’ He picked up a set of keys. Was Ruiz offering Holly the keys to his house? Why? ‘Do you want me to keep an eye on the place while you’re away?’ She was happy to do so.
‘No, that’s okay—but thanks for the offer. I have employed a live-in housekeeper who will have her own apartment on site.’ He ruffled Bouncer’s ears. Having padded into the room in search of company, the big dog had settled down between them. ‘The town house is a much better option than here,’ Ruiz went on. ‘There’s a proper garden, plus a large communal garden that leads on to the park.’
‘That’s great.’ She kept it light. ‘But I’m not sure I can afford the rent …’
‘That’s very funny,’ Ruiz said, shaking his head, but his eyes were cold as he stared at her. ‘I’m talking about Bouncer moving back there. You’ll stay here, won’t you, Holly? At least until you find somewhere else to live. No hurry,’ he stressed.
‘Of course.’ She laughed. She smiled. She died a little more inside. She should have known Ruiz’s forward planning was all about his dog. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t be here long. I’ve found several flats to look at in the next couple of days—’
‘Well, that’s great,’ Ruiz agreed. ‘But you know you can stay on here as long as you want.’
‘I’d rather not.’
‘Okay.’ He shrugged. ‘Whatever you want, Holly …’
‘I thought I’d move closer to the office.’
Ruiz made no comment and it was a relief to get up and turn away. New Holly didn’t long for things she couldn’t have. She didn’t risk her heart or her bank account. And she certainly didn’t risk her career, Holly told herself fiercely, fighting back tears.
CHAPTER NINE (#ulink_1cb3867f-ee0f-530d-b36d-85857170cbc1)
Concerned you might be left on the shelf? Don’t be. Just think—no shirts to iron, no meals to cook, and you can eat chocolate éclairs for supper every night of your life.
Light-bulb moment, why? Because wallowing in misery isn’t for me, the new me. Friend to lover and back to friends again. I’m told this shift of position is possible if handled correctly. And because I love this man’s sister as if she were my own and I don’t want to hurt her, I’m determined to make it back to friends with him.
And the playboy? Who knows what he thinks? He’s off to Argentina and a life of which I will never be a part. I have to say he seems preoccupied. Perhaps he’s concerned he’s been out of the game too long and might not come up to scratch when he returns to play top class polo. Whatever his problem, one thing I’m sure about—it has nothing to do with me.
HOLLY kept her head down next day at the office. Work was the only thing that numbed the pain of thinking about Ruiz resuming the life of a playboy in the next couple of days, surrounded by sloe-eyed señoritas in Argentina. Work, as well as time-tabling visits to likely rental properties throughout the capital …
‘You haven’t forgotten it’s the Christmas party tonight, have you?’ Freya reminded Holly later that same afternoon.
‘Hmm?’ Holly barely looked up as she hammered away on her keyboard.
‘Didn’t you hear me?’ Freya pressed.
‘I heard you, but I have to work.’
‘For goodness’ sake, Holly. You haven’t even stopped for lunch,’ Freya protested.
‘We’re not letting you get out of it,’ several more girls chorused as they gathered round Holly’s desk.
‘You haven’t forgotten the Christmas party is at the samba club, have you?’ Freya prompted, exchanging glances with her friends.
How could she forget? Another good reason for not going to the party, Holly reasoned, thinking of Ruiz and keeping her head down when the girls shrieked ‘Ole!’ while putting in a bit of skirt-twirling and pouting practice.
‘Hot men, fast music, free drinks. How can you pass that up?’ Freya demanded.
‘Easily,’ Holly murmured, keeping her attention fixed on the screen.
‘Well, we’re not going without you,’ Freya said flatly.
‘Then none of us will go,’ Holly flashed, immediately regretting her outburst when she saw the hurt and surprise on Freya’s face. But how could she go to the samba club with all that it meant to her? It had been such a special night with Ruiz—a night she would never be able to recreate or forget, and she didn’t want to try. ‘Please, Freya. I’ve still got so much to do,’ she pleaded, offering her last piece of chocolate, which Freya refused. ‘Some other night, perhaps.’
‘Holly, this is the Christmas party,’ Freya pointed out. ‘It won’t come around again until next year. You never stop working. You’re in serious danger of—’
‘Don’t say becoming boring. Please don’t say that,’ Holly cut in.
‘I was about to say, you’re in danger of burning out,’ Freya told her with concern.
‘I’m sorry,’ Holly admitted. ‘Truly, I am.’ And when Freya smiled encouragement, she added in a very different voice, ‘Okay, so whose bright idea was it to hold the Christmas party at the samba club?’
Freya’s face brightened immediately. ‘The guys in marketing. Does that mean you’re coming?’
‘If you’ll have me,’ Holly said wryly.
Freya’s answer was to switch off her screen. ‘Go and get ready,’ she insisted. ‘We’ll wait for you.’
She had made some good friends in London, Holly reflected as the girls bustled her out of the office. She should make more time for them, but somehow there didn’t seem to be time for anything these days.
Having tested every part of his body at the gym and found it all in good working order, Ruiz took a long, cold shower and tucked a towel around his waist. He was just opening his locker when the call came through on his phone. ‘Gabe? To what do I owe this honour?’
‘That pretty little thing you brought to the club that time?’
‘Do you mean Holly?’ Ruiz was instantly alert, all thoughts of cutting Holly out of his life forgotten.
‘ROCK! is having its Christmas party at the club and the guys are well into the party spirit. I’m not sure your friend is too happy about them trying to get her to dance. Would you like me to intervene?’
A muscle in Ruiz’s jaw flexed. ‘I’m only across the road at the gym. Can you keep an eye on things until I get there?’
‘Count on it.’
He didn’t pause to dry his hair. Throwing on the same running clothes he had arrived in, he collected Bouncer from the girls on Reception and headed off.
* * *
How was she going to do this nicely without causing offence to people she had to work with? How was she going to get out of dancing with men who’d had too much to drink, and who should have learned by now that no meant no? She couldn’t help but remember Ruiz, and how safe she’d felt with him.
‘Ow! You’re hurting me,’ Holly protested, freeing her arm from one man’s grasp. ‘Please don’t touch me,’ she exclaimed, whirling round to try and catch another culprit. But the more Holly resisted, the more the men seemed to think it was a game. Where was Freya? Where were all the other girls she worked with? Holly frantically scanned the dance floor, but it was so packed she couldn’t see anyone she knew.
And then her heart rolled over. ‘Ruiz?’ Dressed in running shoes and gym clothes, his hair still damp from the shower, Ruiz was framed in the entrance to the club with Bouncer sitting patiently at his feet. With his dark eyes narrowed Ruiz was also searching the dance floor, every fibre of his pumped and muscular body poised for action. The moment he caught sight of her he strode purposefully forward. A path cleared in front of him. No wonder, Holly thought. The expression in Ruiz’s eyes was murderous. With their reflexes dulled by drink, the men around her took a little longer to realise what was happening, but thankfully some primal warning mechanism must have kicked in and they peeled away just in time.
‘Are you all right?’ Ruiz demanded tersely.
She was now, Holly realised, feeling massive relief.
‘I heard you were having trouble.’ Before she could question this, Ruiz added, ‘Let’s get your coat.’ And putting a protective arm around her shoulders, he led her towards the reception area.
‘You’ve come straight from the gym,’ she said as they collected Bouncer.
‘No, I always dress like this for a night out.’
‘Ruiz, I—’
‘Don’t say it.’
‘I will say it. I always seem to be such a bother. So, thank you.’
Ruiz grunted and held the door for her.
They walked home at a brisk pace through the park, icy air billowing in silent clouds from their mouths. They both had plenty to think about, but neither of them voiced those thoughts, and Holly could feel Ruiz’s tension. Only Bouncer seemed perfectly at ease as he trotted along between them. She was grateful to the big dog’s softening influence on a situation that showed no sign of easing any time soon. Ruiz didn’t speak until they reached the penthouse and then he turned at the door of the elevator. ‘What will you do when I’m not here, Holly?’
‘Work,’ she said as the doors slid open and they stepped inside.
Ruiz firmed his jaw, staring straight ahead as they waited for the elevator to reach the penthouse floor. While she knew she had done nothing wrong Holly felt as if something light and good had died inside her and she didn’t know how to get it back. ‘I suppose you can forgive the people at the Christmas party. Thank goodness it only comes round once a year.’
Ruiz remained resolutely unimpressed by her attempt to make light of something that could so easily have turned nasty without his intervention. When the lift doors opened he stood aside to let her pass. She wasn’t even sure he was going to get out with her. ‘Thank you for coming to the club. I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t been there.’
He indicated that she should move and he would follow. ‘If you will excuse me, Holly,’ Ruiz said, holding the door for her, ‘I’m going back home to bed.’
‘You’re taking Bouncer? Of course you are,’ she said quickly, remembering Bouncer was living at the town house now. ‘I’m really sorry to have put you to all this trouble, Ruiz. The silly thing is I didn’t even want to go out. I’m so bogged down with work I can’t spare the time.’ She stopped when she saw his expression.
‘I think you have some decisions to make about how you live your life, Holly. Success is great, but—’
Ruiz’s shrug said it all.
‘I need to get some sleep,’ he said, turning. Before he made the long journey back to Argentina, Holly guessed, as the man she loved and his dog left her life without a backward glance.
* * *
He didn’t sleep. Luckily for him he’d packed for the trip ahead of time. He tossed and turned, thinking about life and what he wanted out of it, and he came up with the same answer every time: Holly. She was all he wanted. He couldn’t make sense of his longing for her, or come up with anything more concrete than the fact that his life was empty without her. He wanted her, not just for a fling, but for longer—for ever, maybe. He’d started to get to know her and he wanted to know more. A lot more. He wanted to give them a chance. He wanted to run with the crazy redhead and see where it led. Almost certainly nowhere, Ruiz concluded, since Holly seemed completely wrapped up in her career. But was that because she really didn’t care about anything apart from her job. Or did Holly’s lack of confidence in her personal life mean she only felt safe when living vicariously through her column? There was only one way to find out.
* * *
If the team leader wanted misery he could have it, Holly reflected the next morning as she hung up her coat at the office. The only consolation was that she wasn’t alone with her hangdog expression. Everyone was a little under par after the party, moving in slow-mo and speaking in mumbles, and then only when necessary. But all that changed when she reached her desk. ‘What?’ she said, looking at the mob surrounding it. ‘What’s happened?’
As her colleagues peeled away from Holly’s work station Holly saw the envelope propped against the monitor. She knew immediately who it was from. Thousands of letters arrived each week addressed to The Redhead, but this was addressed in bold, black script, To Holly.
‘Well? Open it,’ Freya insisted.
Picking it up, Holly held the envelope to her chest almost as if she hoped that would make it invisible. ‘This is private,’ she said, hoping everyone would go away.
‘Open it here,’ Holly’s team leader insisted with his usual insensitivity. ‘Then if it’s anything to upset you, one of us can take over your work so at least something will get done today.’
‘He’s all heart,’ one of the girls murmured discreetly, adding, ‘We’re all on your side, Holly. And judging by the size of that envelope there could be something more inside it than just a private note.’
And why should she care if it was from Ruiz? Holly reasoned. He’d made it clear enough last night that what he wanted was a clean break. Perhaps she’d left something behind in the club and he was returning it, though she couldn’t remembering doing so—
‘It’s a folder from an airline,’ Freya informed her colleagues as Holly peered inside the envelope. ‘And there’s something else,’ she exclaimed, poring over Holly’s shoulder.
‘Do you mind?’ Holly said shakily. Walking over to the window, she turned her back on everyone. She read the handwritten note first. It was another of Ruiz’s succinct wake-up-calls: ‘Have you thought about your life yet, Holly? About who you really want to be? Maybe the enclosed will help. Ruiz.’
‘Are you okay, Holly?’ Freya demanded when she remained rooted to the spot. ‘Have you checked the airline tickets yet?’
Airline tickets, Holly thought numbly, turning her attention to the rest of the envelope’s contents. ‘Oh, my God! This is ridiculous—’
‘What is?’ Holly’s team leader demanded.
‘First-class return tickets to Buenos Aires, leaving tonight. And a VIP pass to a polo match.’ Holly held them up as if she needed everyone else to confirm that they were real. When the shrieks of excitement died down, she shook her head. ‘What a waste.’
‘A waste?’ her team leader queried sharply.
‘Well, I won’t be using them.’ Going back to her desk, Holly sank weakly into her chair. ‘How can I, when I’ve got so much work on here?’
‘Have laptop, will travel,’ the team leader argued briskly, swinging his chair round. ‘You can send copy from anywhere in the world with Internet access, Holly. And if you don’t take up that offer, you can consider yourself fired.’
‘Fired?’ Holly exclaimed, springing up.
‘Wasn’t it you who told me that the “Living with a Playboy” feature had almost run its course?’ her boss reminded her. ‘Don’t you think this trip to Argentina is the key to reviving it?’
And put her life through the wringer again? Did she want that? Wouldn’t it be so much easier to make it all up in the column as she went along and walk away from this? ‘I can’t afford to take time off,’ she said flatly.
‘We’ll cover your expenses and pay your wages while you’re away, as long as you keep submitting the column,’ the team leader said, growing in enthusiasm as he thought through his idea. ‘You’ve just been appointed ROCK!’s foreign correspondent. Just think what that will do for reader figures,’ he added, rubbing his hands with glee.
Reader figures. Great. But she felt empty inside. What was wrong with her? She finally had the career she’d always wanted.
And what a hollow victory that had turned out to be. What about the guy? What about Ruiz?
The thought of seeing Ruiz again was a terrifying and uncertain prospect. She didn’t know what to expect. Could she do it? Could she be with Ruiz again, write about him, and remain aloof? ‘What about me?’ she blurted as desperation took over.
‘What about you?’ the team leader demanded. ‘You’re part of a team, Holly. The clue’s in the word.’
He was right, Holly realised. She couldn’t let the team down—all of their jobs were on the line, not just hers. And nothing was ever achieved by hiding away. She had to get out there and confront life—and Ruiz—head-on.
‘I don’t know what you’re standing there for,’ he added impatiently. ‘Shouldn’t you be going back home to pack? According to this ticket you’ve got four hours to catch your flight!’
CHAPTER TEN (#ulink_99c0c709-a7e9-5469-be21-76e435062560)
Hope I can read my writing later with all the turbulence—this must be the messiest diary entry I’ve made in a while.
Did I have any option but to accept Ruiz’s invitation? Having already messed up my non-existent love life, can I afford to risk my job as well? And then I have to ask myself this: If I can’t trust myself to take a professional approach and write an article about the playboy without wailing, what kind of journalist am I going to make?
So here I am after a thirteen hour flight, taxiing towards the stand at Aeropuerto Ministro Pistarini airport, more commonly known as Ezeiza after the city close to Buenos Aires in which the airport is situated. Did you hear that? Buenos Aires! Where the weather, according to our hip young captain, is a bikini-basting twenty-eight degrees. Before you get excited, he wasn’t directing that comment at me. With my red hair and freckles I don’t feel a bit out of place amongst all the sultry whip-thin señoritas seated here with me in First Class. As if! I feel more like a suet dumpling than ever—a fact no doubt observed by said captain when he took the precaution of performing a talent-trawl in the First Class cabin before lowering his landing gear. But I will be spending Christmas with the playboy at his family’s fabulous country-sized estancia and no one else can say that. I think you’ll agree this takes ‘Living with a Playboy’ to a whole new level. Buckle your seat belts, my friends; something tells me we’re in for a bumpy ride.
THE first thing Holly saw in the terminal building was a huge poster advertising the polo match featuring the Band of Brothers. Ruiz Acosta, ten times life size and easily the best looking of four astonishingly handsome brothers, staring down at her. She swallowed deeply. Everywhere she looked there seemed to be another poster—another heart-stopping reminder of the darkly glittering glamour that had so easily attracted her. Even the limousine Ruiz had sent to collect her had a Band of Brothers sticker on the back window. A crowd had gathered round to stare and comment and swoon, and by the time she had collapsed onto the back seat her heart was thundering like a pack of wild mustangs.
Surely, this had to be a dream …
But it wasn’t a dream, and as the luxury vehicle ate up the dusty miles between the airport and the Acosta family’s estancia Holly felt her throat grow increasingly tight. Her anxiety wasn’t eased by the sight of numerous billboards advertising the match. Ruiz was a national hero it seemed. But how could this swarthy, dangerous-looking man with his burning stare, earring and tattoos be the same man who had held her in his arms and made love to her—
Forget that. Forget him. You’re here to do your job, that’s it.
She couldn’t think of anything but Ruiz. Even this harsh land was right for him. London, with all its neatly packaged districts, felt a lifetime away as the driver took her deeper into the interior. She had been commissioned to write an article and nothing more, Holly reasoned, trying to calm down: ‘Christmas with the Playboy’. She would also have the chance to watch Ruiz play polo, to see this rugged man with his thighs wrapped around the flanks of some prime horseflesh.
‘The game will have started by the time we arrive,’ the driver informed her. ‘But you’ll see plenty of it,’ he assured her in heavily accented English. ‘That’s if there’s anyone left alive on the field for you to watch by the time we get there.’
He laughed. She didn’t laugh.
Another colossal billboard loomed in front of them like a vivid punctuation mark amidst miles of arid scrubland that seemed to mock her with just how far she was from civilisation and any form of escape. She stared blindly out of the window. What was she doing here? Why had she come? She could have refused.
She should have refused.
And lost her job?
A road that had been deserted for hours was suddenly clogged with vehicles all travelling in the same direction. Hundreds more were already parked up on the roadside and in lines across the fields. Holly gasped with alarm when her driver, using the simple avoidance tactic of pulling onto the wrong side of the road, overtook everything at speed. With a final thump on his horn to warn the other vehicles, he swung the wheel and steered the limousine beneath an impressive archway that led to an immaculately groomed drive lined with trees. ‘Welcome to Estancia Acosta, Señorita Valiant,’ he said, continuing to drive at a speed that had the crowds spraying to either side on the road ahead of them. ‘I’m going to take you straight round to the pony lines where you will find Ruiz, if he isn’t on the polo field.’
‘I’ll be fine here. You can drop me anywhere.’ But preferably not beneath this billboard, Holly thought anxiously as they drove through what looked more like a very busy small town than a family ranch.
‘You might get lost if I leave you here,’ the driver insisted. ‘And then I’d be in trouble.’
With whom? she wondered. With Ruiz?
‘My orders are quite specific,’ the driver went on. ‘This is the most popular event of the year.’
It looked like it, and she was thrilled to see real gauchos, the Argentine equivalent of a cowboy, for the first time. Leather chaps to protect their breeches were held up by coin-decorated belts, while their hats were festooned with bands and laces. There were socialites too—the girls as immaculately groomed as the flashy polo ponies they had come to see. While I am more your sturdy hunter, Holly thought wryly. But then she was hunting for a story, not a husband.
But that didn’t stop her finger-combing her hair as the driver started to slow the car. They were approaching the pony lines now. Mashing her lips together, she decided against lipstick because her hands were shaking too much to put it on. She couldn’t see the polo field as it was hidden by the towering stands, but polo players were stalking about like muscular gods of the game. They wore white, jean-style breeches and either black shirts with a skull and cross-bones embroidered on the pocket, or ‘Acosta’ emblazoned in white in capital letters on the back of red shirts. Some of the players were already mounted with their faceguards down, their dark eyes shielded behind stylish eye-protectors, but so far there was no sign of Ruiz.
‘He must be playing,’ the driver said as a cheer went up somewhere out of sight. ‘These men are the reserves—warming up and standing ready in case of injury.’
Holly’s stomach lurched at the thought of Ruiz being injured.
‘Shall I take you to see him play?’
‘Would you?’ she said gratefully, though the thought terrified her at the same time.
The stands were vast and impressive and ran the length of the field, which was about six times the size of a football pitch and packed to the rafters with noisy supporters. Seats had been reserved for them on the front row and as she sat down Holly’s gaze instantly locked onto Ruiz. She’d have known that muscular body anywhere, though she had never seen it at full stretch like this. As he thundered past the stand in a blur of red top, and white mud-streaked breeches, she felt a reckless punch of full-blown lust. Ruiz’s face guard was down, but she didn’t need to see his eyes to know that he was on a mission and everyone had better keep out of his way. The romantic idea of polo was one thing, but seeing Ruiz’s superb horsemanship firsthand, along with his tactical expertise and sheer physical courage, made it impossible to keep her thoughts confined to business. She was ashamed to admit, even to herself, how much she wanted him.
No, she didn’t, Holly told herself firmly, turning like the rest of the crowd to watch Ruiz. She wasn’t going there. She was a professional journalist with a job to do. Ruiz had stopped abruptly at one end of the field. Turning his horse, he charged the pack at a gallop, mallet raised. Leaning at such an acute angle, he seemed to defy gravity as he deftly hooked the ball and smacked it down the field. The crowd went wild as the band of brothers closed ranks behind him. Everyone sprang to their feet, screaming encouragement as Ruiz swung his mallet a second time and scored a goal. Forgetting herself, Holly screamed hysterically with the rest.
‘What a man,’ the woman next to her exclaimed, fanning herself with her hand. ‘What wouldn’t I give to spend the night with him?’
So that was why she had come to Argentina, Holly thought wryly.
No, it wasn’t!
‘Ruiz stole that ball from the great Nero Caracas,’ the driver on her other side was explaining to her excitedly. ‘Ruiz’s brother Nacho Acosta and Nero Caracas are considered to be the top players in the world.’
‘And yet Ruiz got the better of him,’ Holly agreed with pride. Oh, yes, he did.
She watched Ruiz settle back into the saddle and take easy control of his horse as the two teams cantered down the field to change ends after his goal. He was so relaxed, so sexy. The excitement of the match had made her forget how nervous she had been at the prospect of seeing him again, but now the butterflies were back. What would a man like that think of a distinctly unglamorous, planerumpled Holly Valiant? Would he sigh heavily, and wonder why on earth she had agreed to come to Argentina? Ruiz must know why she had accepted. The public reason was that she had no option if she didn’t want to lose her job. The private reason was hers alone.
She sat tensely as the match started up again. The camaraderie between Ruiz and his infamous brothers was obvious, as was the strong bond between them. The way he praised his horse touched her, just as the quiet confidence on his ruthless face made Ruiz even more attractive. She envied him for belonging so strongly to something and somewhere, and having the family bond she had always hankered after. How wonderful for Lucia to have grown up under the protection of brothers like that, she thought briefly, but then she added wryly, how terrible. With four warriors watching over her it was no wonder Lucia Acosta had felt the need to break away. The Acosta brothers were such a formidable force it would be easy to be eclipsed by them.
When the match had been declared a draw and the players awarded their medals, they cantered off the field. Holly felt weak with longing, and tense with anticipation at the thought of this first meeting. She left her seat to go and find Ruiz. The teams were coming into the yard by the time she arrived, steel horseshoes clattering across the cobbles. The men made quite a sight—all of them muscular and rugged, with shoulders wide enough to carry an ox. She stood beneath the shade of some trees, watching discreetly as the men chatted to each other as if they hadn’t been mortal enemies only minutes before. Ruiz had his mallet resting on his massive shoulders, and was holding the reins casually in one hand. He was so achingly familiar, and yet a stranger in so many ways. Thinking herself hidden in the shadows she exclaimed out loud when he looked straight at her and came cantering over.
‘Welcome to Argentina, Holly Valiant,’ he said.
She gasped with surprise when he dipped out of the saddle to kiss her cheek. ‘I’m glad you decided to accept my invitation,’ he said, staring down at her with all the knowledge and humour in his eyes she remembered.
She hoped she mumbled something vaguely polite in return as Ruiz sprang down from the saddle. Handing over his sweating pony and mallet to a waiting groom, he turned to face her. ‘Did you enjoy the match?’ Her heart thundered in response as Ruiz removed his helmet and ran one hand through his wild black hair.
‘It was fantastic. You were fantastic …’ Her voice tailed away. She felt incredibly self-conscious all of a sudden, and realised that Ruiz must receive such unsophisticated compliments all the time.
‘I’m glad you enjoyed it,’ he said, a sincere smile planting an attractive crease in his cheek. ‘Did you see my goal?’
‘Yes, I saw it,’ she confirmed, realising that even national heroes needed reassurance from time to time. ‘It was brilliant.’ And now she was smiling. How could she not smile when Ruiz was around? She had lost the art of playing it cool where Ruiz Acosta was concerned—if she had ever had it in the first place.
Ruiz’s massive shoulders eased in a self-deprecating shrug as he glanced after his horse. ‘I owe it all to my pony. I saved my best horse until the last chukka.’
‘I think it might have something to do with your skill too,’ she suggested dryly, growing in confidence because Ruiz was so relaxed.
Her heart bounced as he stared intently at her. ‘Are you attempting to flatter me, Señorita Valiant?’
‘Maybe, Señor Acosta,’ she agreed. To have Ruiz teasing her again in that warm, husky voice was alarming and yet strangely reassuring too. It was as though nothing had changed between them, as though they were still close, and had always been close, and only she had imagined the yawning gulf growing between them.
‘Come on,’ he said, taking hold of her arm.
‘Where are you taking me?’
‘Does it matter?’
Ruiz’s gaze was dark and disturbing, and she had to remind herself that this was a research trip. ‘Not one bit,’ she said. ‘Your driver told me you and your brothers own some of the top ponies in the world …’ Not the best conversational opening gambit she had ever come up with, but she had to try something to distract her wandering and highly erotic thoughts.
‘Have you ever wondered why there isn’t a polo world series?’ Ruiz demanded, staring down at her.
She looked into the dark, compelling gaze. ‘I’m sure you’re going to tell me.’
‘Argentina would clean up every time. We have the best ponies in the world. And the best players.’
‘The most modest too,’ Holly observed dryly.
‘You’re right,’ Ruiz agreed, his eyes dancing with shared laughter. ‘We’re just about perfect.’
She hadn’t imagined it would be so easy to relax with him. But she mustn’t read too much into it, Holly warned herself. Tensions had never existed between them for long and she was Ruiz’s guest in Argentina.
‘I notice you’re not taking notes?’ Ruiz observed, adopting an expression that made her smile even more.
‘What notes?’ she said, frowning. And then she laughed again, knowing her reputation for work.
‘I was led to understand that the only reason you agreed to accept my invitation to come to Argentina was because your boss at ROCK! told you it would be a good idea to write a polo feature for the magazine.’
‘Correct,’ she said. That was the only reason.
‘And there was no other reason?’ Ruiz probed in his deep, husky voice.
‘Should there be?’ If she couldn’t fool herself, what hope was there of fooling Ruiz?
‘You tell me,’ he said.
* * *
‘This is my family home,’ Ruiz told her as they approached a grand old house.
The building had an air of permanence and was much loved, Holly decided, noticing it was immaculately maintained. When they went through the impressive entrance she found herself in a large hall crammed with people. ‘Too many people for proper introductions,’ Ruiz determined, leading her towards an impressive sweeping staircase. ‘You should have some privacy now so you can rest up and take a bath before you meet everyone. You might even like a sleep to recover from the journey?’
‘I’ll be fine. I’m far too excited,’ Holly admitted, which drew a sharp glance from Ruiz. ‘If you can just give me half an hour or so to take a shower and change my clothes …?’
‘But no face masks,’ he said dryly.
‘Promise,’ she said, trying hard to curb a smile.
‘I need to freshen up too,’ Ruiz pointed out, breaking what had turned into a long moment of mutual inspection and assessment. ‘Then I’m going to take a tour of the stables to check on the ponies.’
‘Can I come with you?’
‘If you promise not to bring your phone or your notepad.’
‘I haven’t even switched it on yet.’ And only now remembered her oversight.
‘Then do so,’ Ruiz prompted. ‘You should let people know you’re safe. Though your working hours at the estancia will be between one and four in the afternoon while I’m taking a siesta.’
She laughed. ‘So I work while you rest?’
‘Sounds good to me,’ Ruiz observed with another heart-stopping flash of humour.
‘And what am I supposed to do for the rest of the time?’
‘Live a little?’ Ruiz suggested.
I will, she thought as he turned to go.
She had so much research material already and she’d only been here five minutes, Holly reflected as she leaned back against the heavy wooden door in her bedroom. Decorated in shades of palest coral and cream the room Ruiz had chosen for her was light and sunny, and beautifully feminine in a way Holly had never had the luxury of enjoying before. There was lace on the bed and silver on the dressing table, with a clutch of satin cushions on the elegant chaise longue positioned to take in the view over the ponies in the paddocks beyond the formal gardens.
The scent of beeswax tickled her senses as she waited for the data to upload on her phone. It was then that she noticed the family photographs arranged on the antique chest of drawers. There was a shot of the brothers as teenagers with their much younger sister, all of them smiling and instantly recognisable—dangerously handsome even then. She might only have been here five minutes, Holly reflected as her heartbeat increased, but it was long enough to know she would write about sexy polo players in general, because some things were better kept private. She couldn’t bear the thought of everyone laughing at her if she admitted how hopelessly in love she was with one polo player in particular.
Having made the necessary calls, she took a shower in the old fashioned, but immaculate and beautifully maintained bathroom, before sorting out her clothes on top of the high, intricately carved four-poster bed with its dressing of crisp white linen and lace. When she was ready she went to find Ruiz and her heart juddered when she bumped into him on the landing. Like her, he was just going downstairs. ‘Do you have everything you need?’ he asked.
She looked at him and thought not. ‘My room is lovely. Thank you.’ And then the question uppermost in her mind had to be asked. ‘Why did you invite me here, Ruiz?’ It was impossible to tell what he was thinking.
The dark eyes gave nothing away. ‘Your editor’s pleased you’re here, isn’t he?’
‘Yes, of course he is.’ But that didn’t answer her question and Holly’s shoulders slumped as she watched Ruiz walk ahead of her down the stairs. Her heart yearned for him, but her head said, Don’t set yourself up for another disaster.
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#ulink_41ea0d28-6b00-5a67-bb86-ed324a31b843)
Another column I only hope makes more sense to you, the reader, than it does to me right now. My head is full of one man: the playboy. He’s so hot and sexy with a torso that would eclipse the centre-fold on any magazine you care to mention. To see him control a horse, effortlessly and completely, is the biggest turn-on of all. The polo match was spectacular. He was spectacular—
Am I getting a little selfish here? If I am, this is for you: the quotient of thighs like smooth, muscular tree trunks, and forearms like hairy steel bars was totally off the scale—
But the playboy is the only man I’m interested in. To seem him in full battle mode cracking the ball down the field at a gallop was so thrilling I would have fallen in love with him on the spot if I weren’t in love with him already.
Yes. You can safely say I am a lost cause. I don’t seem to have any sense of reality when it comes to men. I can’t find a safe man with carpet slippers and a newspaper. I can’t even find a slightly risky man with a set of golf clubs and a year’s subscription to the local squash club. All I can find is a Playboy with a capital P and a stonking great mallet.
RUIZ was in the kitchen drinking coffee, with a housekeeper bustling at the stove. He put his cup down when Holly came into the room and got up immediately. ‘I want you to see something,’ he said, leading her back towards the door she had just entered.
His touch on her arm was so familiar … so achingly familiar. She liked it. A great deal too much.
Ruiz took her across the baronial hall with its burnished wooded floor and muted, jewel-coloured hangings to another passageway leading off the grand entrance hall. Opening the door onto a room with a very different personality, he followed her in. Leaning back against the door, he said, ‘Well? What do you think?’
She was finding it hard to concentrate right now.
‘Take a look around,’ he said. ‘I think you’ll find everything you need here …’
It was an office, she realised. Ruiz had brought her into a very modern office. All teak and cream furnishings, and sunlight slid through crisp white blinds to create the perfect working environment.
‘I thought you would appreciate having a room of your own to work in quietly,’ he said. ‘Somewhere away from the rest of the house and the hubbub of polo and family life. This is where I come when I want to get away, and where I do some of my best thinking. Let’s hope the same vibes work for you. Consider this your room for the duration of your stay, Holly. No one will disturb you here.’
It was a beautiful room. So why did she feel so flat? Maybe because Ruiz wasn’t part of the package? ‘Thank you.’ No one had ever been so thoughtful before. Her family home had been small and cramped with parents at war, so the local library or the coffee shop down the road had been her office. A room of her own, even for her brief stay here, was luxury indeed. There was only one thing missing, Holly realised as Ruiz turned to go.
‘Don’t spend all your time in here,’ was his parting shot.
‘I won’t.’ She was determined to keep it light. ‘I won’t have anything to write about if I do!’
But he’d already gone. The door had shut behind Ruiz, leaving Holly to her own devices in his fabulous office. Great. She was here to work, so this was brilliant.
Well, get on with it, then …
Nothing. Her mind was empty. There wasn’t a single idea in her head. There was just a keyboard, a blank screen, and the sound of confident footsteps walking away.
* * *
There were times when you had to cast your net into the water rather than wait on the bank doing nothing, Holly reflected when the longest ten minutes of her life had passed. There was everything here in this office, except for the one thing she needed. Picking up the internal phone, she dialled the kitchen. Ruiz picked up immediately. ‘Problem?’ he demanded.
‘I need something to write about.’
‘I’ll be right up.’
There was nothing in his tone to suggest that this was going to be anything more than a courtesy call, but Holly’s heart turned over at the sound of a knock on the door. ‘Well?’ Ruiz demanded, walking in.
Her brain seized up. Right now she just wanted to look at him. There’d been a Ruiz-drought in her life and now she just wanted to drink him in. Big, refreshing gulps! Propping one lean thigh against the desk, he stared down at her, frowning. ‘I hope you haven’t brought me up here for nothing?’
‘No …’ Her senses were full of him. She loved it when he glowered, and Ruiz was close enough for her to feel the warmth of his body and smell the soap he’d used in the shower.
‘Why aren’t you working?’ he asked, straightening up.
‘I am,’ she protested.
‘Well, work faster,’ Ruiz prompted, ‘and remember that when you leave this room your work stays here. Agreed?’
She loved it when his lips firmed. ‘Agreed,’ she said faintly.
‘Louder, Holly.’
‘Agreed.’
‘That’s better,’ Ruiz murmured. ‘Now come here. We haven’t said hello to each other properly yet.’
She stood. Taking a couple of small, prudent paces forward, she stretched out her hand to shake his.
Ruiz took hold of her and dragged her close. ‘Hello, Holly,’ he murmured, laughing down into her eyes.
She stared into the dark, amused eyes, and then at the firm, sexy mouth only a whisper from hers. ‘I thought you said this room was to work in,’ she protested without much force.
‘It is,’ Ruiz agreed. ‘Here’s your next headline.’
His kiss took her breath away. It was both fierce and tender. Two dams had burst at once, she thought as Ruiz swung her into his arms. ‘You can’t do this in the office.’
Shh you crazy woman, and savour the moment!
‘I can do anything I want, anywhere I want,’ Ruiz assured her. ‘Just so long as you want it too …’
‘All I want is you,’ she said softly, opening her heart when caution couldn’t save it.
‘If you’re sure?’ He held her above the sofa. ‘I can always leave you here to work.’
‘You dare,’ she said, feeling excitement spring inside her. ‘And you know what they say about too much work.’
‘I know what I say,’ Ruiz commented under his breath.
‘Where are we going?’ she said as he carried her towards the door.
‘To bed,’ Ruiz said bluntly. ‘This might take some time and I’m not confident the sofa springs will hold up.’
She could hardly breathe for anticipation as he strode down the landing with her in his arms. Opening a door at the end, he walked into a spacious room and kicked the door shut behind them. He carried her straight over to the bed and she barely had time to register that this was a very different room again: elegantly furnished in the Italian style rather than in the heavy traditional manner of the rest of the house. ‘I like a man who knows what he wants.’
‘And a woman who knows how to give it to him.’
She wouldn’t argue with that, Holly thought as her breathing quickened. Ruiz’s bed was big and firm, and had been recently dressed in crisp white linen. She was sure she could smell sunshine coming off the sheets. Lowering her onto the bed, he joined her and then, cupping her face, he kissed her. ‘You’re in a rush,’ she said, fighting to catch her breath when he released her.
‘Would you have me any other way?’
‘Absolutely not,’ she admitted. And then, because she was a glutton for punishment, she added, ‘How about me?’
‘Stop hiding behind the column,’ Ruiz said frankly.
‘And live a little?’ Holly suggested.
‘No.’ He paused. ‘Live a lot.’
Her body responded urgently as Ruiz kissed her again. She loved the feel of his arms around her and the touch of him beneath her hands. She loved the taste of him and the smell of him, warm, clean and musky with rampant maleness. ‘I’m so glad you invited me.’
‘Don’t play prim with me.’ His lips tugged in a grin. ‘I know what you want.’
‘Seriously, Ruiz.’
‘Seriously?’ he queried, stopping her with a kiss. ‘I know what you want. And you should know by now that I’ll call you any way I have to, as loudly as I have to, from as far away as I must.’
She wasn’t used to this feeling, this safe, sure, happy feeling. Maybe Ruiz was right and this was living. It was certainly risking everything for one man. And it was better this way. She stared into the dark amused eyes and knew then that for her this was the only way.
‘Now stop trying to kid yourself and me,’ Ruiz told her in a husky voice. ‘We both know you’re a very bad girl. So, what’s holding you back, Holly?’
‘Nothing,’ she said, moving down the bed.
She took her time tracing the lines of Ruiz’s muscular thighs. Then, pulling up his top, she traced the band of muscles across his belly. As her fingers trailed lower she had the satisfaction of hearing him suck in a fast breath. ‘Was the belt really necessary,’ she murmured. Cupping the arrogant swell of Ruiz’s erection over the fabric of his jeans, she directed a teasing stare into his face. ‘Is all this for me? You shouldn’t have.’
Holly gasped out as Ruiz swung her underneath him. ‘But I have and I will,’ he promised as he began unbuttoning her shirt. ‘And if you can’t give me a very good reason for keeping me waiting for this, I shall just have to pleasure it out of you.’
‘Oh, no. Please don’t do that,’ she murmured, watching as Ruiz reached back to tug his top over his head. Tracing the formidable muscles on his chest, she turned her attention to his jeans. ‘You are massively overdressed,’ she complained, wrestling them off him. And massively erect, she discovered with excitement.
‘And you are as forward as I remember.’ Ruiz paid her back by whipping her top off and tossing it away.
‘Lie on that bed, Señor,’ she warned, stripping down to bra and pants. ‘There is some unfinished business requiring my immediate attention, and it cannot wait.’
‘Go easy, señorita,’ Ruiz growled. ‘I’ve been waiting a long time for this.’
‘Are you saying the renowned playboy has lost his self-control?’ she taunted, kneeling over him.
‘I’m saying that with you it might be impossible to hold on.’
‘Don’t touch,’ she warned when Ruiz reached for her breasts. Currently threatening to spill over her bra, her nipples were deep rose pink and erect.
‘Do your worst,’ Ruiz encouraged in a husky Latin whisper.
‘Don’t worry, I will,’ she promised, slipping her fingertips beneath the waistband of his boxers. It was Holly’s turn to suck in a fast, excited breath when she had removed them. Ruiz was magnificent in every department and most especially in this. She dipped her head to take him in her mouth, relishing his smoothness and the sheer size of him as she traced the veined surface with her tongue. She tasted and suckled gently, before licking him while cupping him with her hands. She wanted to hold him now, to feel the promise of pleasure beneath her hands. She needed both her hands.
‘That’s enough,’ he exclaimed suddenly, swinging her beneath him.
‘Can’t you hold on?’ she challenged him.
Ruiz’s eyes were equally wicked. ‘Let’s find out, shall we?’ he teased.
‘Oh, yes. Let’s,’ she agreed with enthusiasm as Ruiz lost no time removing her remaining clothes. Nudging her legs apart with one powerful thigh, he tested and positioned her, using a pillow to raise her hips to an even more receptive level. After protecting them, he eased inside her with infinite care.
‘That feels so good.’ She breathed out a shuddering sigh as Ruiz lifted her.
‘And now you can see,’ he said.
She hummed, pretending that didn’t matter to her. But it did. And now Ruiz had started to move his hips from side to side, so skilfully massaging he stole the breath from her lungs. Would it ever be possible to breathe normally again, she wondered, while Ruiz was inside her and stretching her so incredibly?
‘This feels so good …’ he said as he continued to roll his hips.
The pleasure was incredible and she gasped when he combined the massage he was giving her at the end of each stroke with a deep and steady movement back and forth. What made it even better was the way he withdrew completely each time, only to repeat the action again and again, until who would lose control first was no longer in doubt. ‘Keep your legs wide,’ he said, helping her to do so by placing the palms of his hands flat against the inside of her thighs and pressing them apart. ‘I want you to do nothing, think nothing. All you have to do is feel, Holly, feel me …’
All she had to do was accept this steady pulse of pleasure growing inside her, while Ruiz worked to a dependable rhythm. A soft wail escaped her throat as the tension began to build to an unsustainable level. She tried to lie still as Ruiz had told her, but she couldn’t blank her mind to what he was doing to her and knew it couldn’t be long now … Perhaps one stroke, perhaps two—
He was ready for her, and when the strength of her climax threw Holly into his arms, he held her firmly as she bucked against him lost in pleasure. This felt so right. She felt perfect. Cradling her in his arms, he stared deep into her eyes to watch the fire rage and subside again into a series of pleasurable waves, each of which brought a groan of contentment from her lips. ‘I think you liked that,’ he murmured. His mouth tugged in a grin as he dropped a kiss on her parted lips. ‘I think you liked that a lot …’
‘I did,’ she confirmed groggily. ‘But now you have to keep that standard up.’
‘You know I have very high standards.’
‘And there’s only one way to maintain them,’ she murmured.
When he queried this with a raised brow, she murmured again, ‘Regular practice.’
‘Then I can only be grateful I rescued you from the samba club when I did.’
‘You never told me how you knew.’
‘Gabe called me at the gym,’ he confided in a whisper against her mouth. He was already hungry for her again.
‘Of course,’ she whispered. ‘So, what did he say, exactly?’
‘He said that the pretty little thing he’d seen me with at the club was having trouble with some men.’
‘Pretty little thing?’ Holly queried, pulling back her head to stare at him. ‘Are you sure he was talking about me?’
‘Size is a matter of scale, isn’t it?’ he said, smiling against her mouth. ‘Or in your case, Holly, it’s all in your mind.’ He lavished an appreciative look down the length of her naked body.
She stretched extravagantly, no longer self-conscious or inhibited. ‘You are rather large,’ she said. ‘I might hang onto you to keep me looking small.’
He laughed. ‘You do that. Now, have I answered all your questions? Or would you like to talk some more?’
‘Talk? No. Talking can wait,’ she said, reaching for him. ‘Don’t be selfish,’ she complained when he teased her by pulling away. ‘You can’t show off goods like that and then deny me the pleasure of them.’
‘Again?’ he said. ‘So soon? Are you sure?’
‘It’s been at least thirty seconds,’ she observed impatiently.
‘Well, if I must,’ he agreed, moving over her.
Ruiz was incredible. Big and hard and muscular didn’t begin to describe him. Dangerously dark, with a wicked sense of humour, but even that didn’t begin to scratch the surface of a man who meant so much to her. She was head over heels in love with him—in over her head—and it felt so good. There could be no half measures with a man like Ruiz, Holly reasoned gratefully as he probed and stretched and stretched her some more. ‘I’m glad you came to my rescue at the club,’ she managed to gasp before he took her mind off conversation. ‘And now you can come to my rescue again.’ Arching against him, she seized him with her muscles.
‘Whoah, tiger,’ Ruiz husked, responding just as she had planned. ‘That’s very forward of you.’
‘Don’t pretend you don’t like it,’ she said grasping him again. ‘I know you better than that.’
He brushed her swollen lips with his, and then dipped his head to suckle her nipples as he thrust firmly into her. She sucked in a noisy breath. Nothing could have prepared her for this level of sensation. ‘Brute,’ she complained, balling her fists against his chest when he proceeded to ride her with the same easy control he used on his polo ponies.
‘You love it,’ he said confidently, maintaining the rhythm she adored. Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her as he made love to her, and when he pulled away she thought that seeing her responses mirrored in Ruiz’s eyes was the most erotic experience she had ever had. And now his kisses had grown deep and tender. ‘I want you,’ he murmured.
‘I want you too.’ He had no idea how much.
Burying his face in her breasts, Ruiz drew on her scent as she eased back her legs to give him greater access. Pressing her knees back, he brought her to the edge again. ‘Now?’ he teased her.
‘Please,’ she begged him, and only moments later she was bucking out of control with only Ruiz’s firm hands to guide her and keep her safe.
‘That was so, so good,’ she murmured a long time later.
Kissing the soft swell of her belly, he moved on to Holly’s heavy breasts to show them the appreciation they deserved. From there he kissed his way down the silky length of her body until he could bear no more, and, turning her on top of him, suggested she ride him.
‘I’m not sure I’ve got your excellent technique,’ she said.
She looked sultry and hot in the mellow light of early evening. Her red gold hair, burnished in the last rays of the sun, tumbled in glorious disarray over her breasts. ‘Enough with the excuses,’ he murmured, starting to guide her hips with his hands. ‘Remember, practice makes perfect. This is almost as easy as the samba. That had three steps. This has two, forward and back …
‘Who knew you’d be such an able pupil?’ Ruiz commented with appreciation after a few minutes of this.
‘At a guess?’ she said. ‘You.’
He groaned with contentment as she picked up the rhythm. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t made love with this man before, but being in control like this, directing his pleasure, took her feelings to a new level. She loved being in control. She loved teasing him by making him wait. She loved to see the tension growing in him as she brought him to the brink, though she couldn’t keep him hovering there as he had kept her hovering, because she wanted to fall so badly too—
They fell together in a bucking, thrusting tangle of limbs as the pleasure waves hit them. She knew nothing more after that for a long while, and, as a slave to sensation, she was glad to be lost. When she woke she was still safely wrapped in Ruiz’s arms. Their legs were tangled around each other and his sensuous face was relaxed. Thinking he must be asleep, she took hold of his hand to kiss each sensitive fingertip in turn.
‘I trust you’re satisfied,’ he murmured.
‘For now,’ she agreed sleepily, turning her face towards him on the pillow.
‘You’ll exhaust me,’ Ruiz complained, but his lips were already tugging in a wicked smile.
‘I’m going to do my best to,’ Holly agreed, ‘though I think I still have some way to go,’ she observed, registering the pressure of Ruiz’s erection against her belly growing more insistent by the second.
Lifting himself up on one elbow, Ruiz smiled against her mouth. ‘More?’ he murmured, teasing her.
‘Much, much more,’ she agreed.
But first he caressed her with all the care and tenderness she had always dreamed of. Emotion wedded to strong sexual attraction was a wonderful thing, Holly had discovered, and Ruiz’s stamina had never been in doubt. She exclaimed with the anticipation of pleasure as he turned her, touched her and entered her. She was on her side with her back to him, her legs drawn up in what was at once the most comfortable, as well as the most receptive position. She arched her back, offering herself for pleasure, while Ruiz held her and rocked her until the excitement became too much for her to bear.
Would he ever get enough of Holly? It seemed not, and it was torture holding back. She had no idea how much he wanted her or how deeply he had come to care for her. He hadn’t realised that himself until he’d seen her here in Argentina. He had hoped she would accept his invitation, but he’d played it cool, played it down, because he had wanted this to be Holly’s decision. He’d left airline tickets—a long shot based on nothing more than his belief that Holly had the same gut feeling he did that there was more ahead of them. The proof that he had been right to bring her to Argentina had blazed from her eyes the moment he’d seen her after the polo match.
Something vital had changed between them, Holly thought as Ruiz caressed her face. She hadn’t been imagining things before; they were bound on more than a purely physical level. Breath shivered out of her in a soft moan as he cupped her buttocks in his warm, strong hands. ‘You can’t help yourself, can you?’ she murmured, gratefully positioning herself.
‘Maybe not, but I can help you.’
She drew back her knees to encourage him as he eased inside her. ‘You’re always so gentle with me,’ she said.
‘Until you tell me otherwise,’ Ruiz agreed, ‘and even then I’ll be gentle with you.’
‘Not even a little bit rough?’ she said, provoking him as she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist.
‘Fast and deep and hard is as rough as I’m prepared to get with you—’
‘Get rough, then,’ she said, smiling wickedly as she egged him on.
They made love for hours. Whenever Holly was briefly sated Ruiz coaxed her back into a state of arousal until she clung to him, rocked with him, moaning rhythmically as he coaxed her on to yet another welcome release. Not that she needed much coaxing. And when at last she did fall asleep for any length of time he kissed her and lay watching over her, knowing that he had never felt like this before. His feelings for her beat against his brain. They had never been in doubt, but what exercised his mind was how to make it possible for them to be together. Because they were going to be together. He was going to make it happen.
Rolling onto his back, he stared at the ceiling to think about his dual life in Argentina and London. And then there was his loyalty to the Band of Brothers. The London house he so badly wanted to make into a family home, the family estancia and the pampas he loved. And that was before he even got started on his horses and the polo—his whole crazy life. How could he ask Holly to share that when she was so gifted and career-oriented? He couldn’t expect her to trot along meekly at his heels.
Like Bouncer?
He couldn’t even be in the right place at the right time for the dog, let alone Holly. Come and live with me and fit in? Was that what he was saying? Try to shoehorn your life into mine—or into whatever small space I can spare for you? He had nothing to offer Holly. Throwing himself back on the pillows, he knew he would never ask so much of someone he loved. So what then? How could he keep her? And he must. They belonged together.
By giving her all the freedom she could want. By letting her go. By allowing Holly to make her own decisions.
Dios! That wasn’t satisfactory. He was accustomed to being in control.
He was accustomed to being alone. Did he want her or not?
He had to wake her.
‘What?’ she murmured groggily as he kissed her awake. Reaching for him she was trusting like a child. She touched him tenderly, her fingers trailing down his arm, her eyes seeking reassurance in his. He wanted this. He wanted it for ever and not just for now. He wanted this closeness, this tenderness, this caring for each other, for ever and for always.
She smiled slowly. ‘So you’re still here,’ she said.
‘Of course I’m still here,’ he confirmed, frowning as if anything else were inconceivable to him. And it was. It already was. It was unthinkable that he should be anywhere other than with Holly. The French called it a coup de foudre—a thunderbolt to the heart. He just knew it as love.
* * *
Ruiz introduced her to his brothers. They were dangerously good fun and ridiculously good-looking. Only Nacho remained a little reserved, but Holly felt his approval. ‘You’re good for my brother,’ Nacho told her after supper that evening. ‘I’ve never seen him so relaxed.’ Holly glanced at Ruiz, exchanging a look with him that told her how pleased he was she fitted in and liked his family.
Fitted in for now, Holly mused the next morning after another spectacular night of love-making with Ruiz. Soon she would have to go back to London and return to work. Before then she had an article to write, but, though she sat and stared at the screen in the room Ruiz had set aside for her, the page remained resolutely blank. She turned with surprise when Ruiz walked in, managing to look sexier than ever in his knee-length riding boots, form-hugging breeches and tight-fitting top. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be training?’ she queried.
‘I changed my mind,’ he said. ‘It’s no fun on my own.’ Walking up to the computer, he typed in: FUN. ‘That’s what you need more of, Holly.’
‘Didn’t I have enough fun last night?’ She rested her chin on her hand to stare up at him.
‘That was then and this is now,’ Ruiz argued. ‘When I first met you Holly Valiant, you embraced fun. You couldn’t get enough of it.’ Putting his arm around her shoulders, Ruiz emphasised this comment with a kiss that made it hard to remember work. Holly stared down at the powerful forearm currently resting against her chest, all deliciously nut brown and muscular, and shaded with just the right amount of dark hair …
‘Holly,’ Ruiz warned softly, swinging her chair round so she had to look at him. ‘You have to stop doubting me.’
‘How do you always know what I’m thinking?’
‘I just know you,’ he said.
‘So, why are you with me, Ruiz?’ She searched his eyes.
‘Let me think,’ Ruiz murmured dryly. ‘Could it be because I love you? Have you thought of that? Or are you just too frightened to put love in the frame in case you get hurt again?’
‘Frightened? No.’ She certainly wasn’t frightened of Ruiz. She trusted him. ‘You love me?’ she said as if her brain had only just computed it.
‘I love you, Holly Valiant,’ Ruiz said, staring into her eyes.
‘You can’t say that just because we had good sex.’
‘Surely you mean amazing sex?’
‘Naturally, that’s what I meant to say,’ Holly agreed, adopting the same teasing tone. ‘But that doesn’t mean you love me,’ she said, turning serious again. ‘How can you be so sure of your feelings?’
‘We’ve got plenty of time on our hands if you want me to prove it to you now.’
‘Ruiz, please be serious—’
‘I have never been more serious in my life,’ he said, losing the smile. Taking both her hands in his, he stared into her eyes and then he kissed each of her hands in turn. ‘I know you’ve been hurt in the past, but I will never hurt you, Holly. I want to be with you and to care for you always. If you’ll have me …?’
For that split second she thought Ruiz looked as vulnerable as she felt. ‘Who wouldn’t want you?’ she said. ‘Not that I’m giving you licence to find out.’
‘The only licence I want is one with both our names on it,’ Ruiz assured her.
‘Cheesy, but it might just work,’ Holly said, starting to smile. This was happening. This was really happening. Holly Valiant had a boyfriend. And he loved her.
‘It will work,’ Ruiz said with confidence. Drawing her into his arms, he stroked Holly’s hair back from her face. ‘When will you go public with this?’
‘In the column?’ She gave him a cheeky look. ‘You’ll just have to wait and see—’
‘This isn’t for the column,’ Ruiz said, turning suddenly serious. ‘I’m asking you to marry me, Holly.’ As he waited for her to say something he felt as if he were balanced on the tip of a mountain peak on one foot. ‘I want to be with you, and I don’t want anyone else,’ he said. ‘I want to share everything I have and everything I am with you, and I don’t want to waste another second of our lives debating this. I want our future to begin now—here—right this minute,’ he declared fiercely. ‘I’m asking you to be my wife, but to be your own person too.’ He stopped, knowing Holly’s answer would be final, and that nothing in his life had meant this much to him before.
‘Your life is so wildly different from mine,’ she said, managing to smile and frown all at the same time.
‘Wild is about right,’ he agreed. ‘But isn’t taking chances what life is all about? There never will come a point where things are easy and straightforward, but if we can work through the challenges together we can make this work. And hopefully, there are some problems you wouldn’t want to be without.’
‘Like you?’ she suggested.
‘I’d rather think of myself as a challenge,’ he teased her.
‘I agree. Life would be boring without challenges, but endless problems are depressing.’
‘Then let’s not make a problem out of this. Do you accept my challenge?’
‘I do,’ she said.
‘I love you, Holly Valiant.’ He folded her in his arms.
‘You love me?’
‘I love you.’
‘You love me,’ Holly repeated, as if testing the words and finding them, not only plausible, but gradually, slowly, oh, so slowly, believable. ‘You love me.’ This time she smiled as she looked at him.
‘Yes, I do,’ he confirmed. ‘Dios send an angel to help me convince you,’ he muttered beneath his passionate Latin breath. ‘And if it takes a lifetime to prove it to you, then that is what I will do, Holly Valiant. So,’ he said, ‘having got the main challenge out in the open and sorted out, have you worked out yet what the missing link is where your writing is concerned?’
‘I only wish I could,’ Holly admitted worriedly, raking her hair with frustration. Her mind was so scattered, she could hardly concentrate. He loved her?
Focus, Valiant, focus!
‘Let’s take a shower.’
‘Together?’ she said, frowning.
‘Is there any other way?’
‘Your writing will be fine now,’ he said later when they were both standing in front of the silent computer. ‘Before, you had just shut your mind to anything that frightened you, stifling original thought.’
‘And I suppose you’ve just done me a favour in the bedroom by opening it up again?’
‘It certainly helped,’ he said. ‘I think I can give you some further help if you need it,’ he added, glancing at the sofa.
‘Don’t you think of anything else?’
‘With you around?’ His lips pressed down. ‘Rarely.’ Grabbing her hand, he pulled her across the room. ‘I bet I can give that imagination of yours a real kick-start.’
‘I’ll try anything once,’ Holly said, gamely.
‘Excellent. First play and then work—’
‘If you think that’s the solution,’ she said, ‘We’d better get to it.’
‘I couldn’t have put it better myself. I think you’re going to write the best article of your life after this, Holly Valiant, and then I’m going to teach you to ride.’
She laughed. ‘And after that?’ she queried.
‘After that we’re going to show everyone how to dance the samba—’
‘You’re completely mad,’ she exclaimed as he lowered her down onto the cushions.
‘Mad for you,’ Ruiz agreed, unfastening his belt.
CHAPTER TWELVE (#ulink_24fb4d3f-aae3-55b2-9691-40b55fc91297)
WHEN Holly was lying quiet and contented in Ruiz’s arms, she asked him, ‘Did you mean it?’
‘Did I mean what?’ he said, opening one wicked eye.
‘You know,’ she prompted.
‘Say it, Holly.’ Ruiz raised a brow as he waited.
‘When you said … you love me.’
‘Of course I did—I do.’
With a hum she settled back in his arms again. ‘I’m glad you didn’t go riding right away.’
‘Oh, so am I,’ Ruiz agreed in a mocking tone and with a smile Holly didn’t see. ‘But I am going to try out a new horse in a while, so you’ll have plenty of chance to write your article.’
‘Slave driver.’
‘Don’t tell me I haven’t filled you with enough inspiration yet?’ Dipping his head, Ruiz stared with laughing eyes into Holly’s sated gaze. He knew this was the only way they could both be happy—if he let her be free to explore her talent and her career.
‘You’ve certainly given me enough to go on for now,’ she said, reluctantly staggering a little as she got to her feet and walked to the desk.
‘Just call me back if you need any more help,’ he said, springing up and adjusting his clothing.
‘Don’t worry, I will,’ she said, already logging on.
* * *
Being singled out by Holly meant more to him than she could ever know. He was so used to being one of the Band of Brothers: Ruiz, the youngest, the fixer, the travelling glue pot for the family. The man who made things right again. He was so busy sorting things out he had never stayed anywhere long enough to form a lasting attachment, let alone with someone as precious to him as Holly. And now he wanted to do something special for her. She had to know how much he cared about her, how much he loved her. It was almost Christmas, and Christmas Day was also her birthday. Gifts for his brothers were easy—anything for their horses. Lucia was almost as easy. He could take his sister on a virtual shopping trip and let her choose anything she liked, but he didn’t want to do that with Holly. He wanted to choose something that had meaning for her. He wanted to spoil her because she had never been spoiled, and surprise her because he loved to see her laugh.
* * *
She had bought Christmas presents for the Acosta family, knowing she would be staying over the holidays with them, but she couldn’t find the perfect gift for Ruiz, the man who had everything—or who could buy it in the unlikely event he found a gap.
She had an idea. She’d have to work on it, and she’d have to work fast, Holly concluded, pressing Send on her latest ‘Living with a Playboy’ feature, along with a second message marked ‘URGENT’. The main article for ROCK! was still work in progress, and something told her that unless she wrote a couple of alternative endings she would have to wait until after Christmas to complete the final draft of that.
‘Are you ready for your riding lesson?’
She turned as Ruiz entered the room. ‘As I’ll ever be!’
‘Not chickening out, I hope?’ he said, smacking a whip against the side of his sexy, calf-moulding riding boots.
‘You wish,’ she said.
‘No, I’ll leave that to the pony,’ Ruiz said, laughing. ‘Come on.’ Throwing an arm around her shoulders, he led her out of the room.
Ruiz put her up on a young, dark bay gelding called Dulce. ‘Can I have hand rails?’ Holly asked nervously, feeling she should have a safety harness at the very least.
‘Hang onto me,’ Ruiz suggested, springing onto the back of a waiting stallion. ‘Dulce is very light on the mouth, but he’ll be kind to you. Squeeze your knees together and he’ll go forward.’
‘Not sure I can squeeze my knees together …’
Ruiz laughed. ‘Then do the best you can.’
‘Well, I blame you if I can’t get them to move together.’ But, experimenting, she discovered her knees still worked. She found the small horse remarkably biddable too, and with Ruiz at her side, patiently advising her, she also discovered confidence flooding in. ‘I like it,’ she exclaimed with surprise, urging the kind pony to pick up his stride.
‘Do you like him?’ Ruiz asked when she had successfully completed a couple of circuits of the ring.
‘I love him,’ Holly admitted, stroking the pricked, velvety ears as she rested her cheek against Dulce’s firm, warm neck.
‘He’s yours.’
‘What?’ She sat up. ‘You can’t do that.’
‘Who said I can’t? Happy Christmas, Holly.’
‘But when will I be able to ride him?’
‘Whenever you come to Argentina with me.’
‘Are you serious? Who will ride him in the meantime?’
‘The grooms will ride him. What will it take to convince you?’ Ruiz demanded, riding alongside. ‘Shall I call my brothers over and ask them to convince you that I never joke where horses are concerned?’
‘Don’t do that,’ she said, flashing a glance at the posse of impossibly tough-looking bad boys busy training fresh young ponies in the next paddock. ‘I’ve got more than enough trouble on my hands as it is. So,’ she said, narrowing her eyes as she stared at Ruiz. ‘If you never joke about horses, how about women?’
‘There are no women.’ Ruiz gave her a long, intense stare. ‘There’s only you.’
‘Good, because I tweeted our news resulting in a mega uplift in hits to the site.’
‘Oh, I’m delighted,’ Ruiz said dryly.
‘A love story contained in one hundred and forty characters isn’t bad editing.’
‘Not bad at all,’ Ruiz agreed. ‘You should think about taking up writing as a career …’ He dodged out of the way as she aimed a swipe at him.
‘So if we’re going to be together do you think I should kill the column?’ she said.
‘Of course not,’ Ruiz argued.
‘You don’t think the readers will grow bored now they know the outcome?’ Holly said, frowning.
‘I’m disappointed in you, Holly. What has happened to that imagination of yours? There should be at least three spin-offs from this piece of news.’
Would that be the engagement, the wedding, followed swiftly by the first baby? Holly wondered.
Ruiz swiftly disillusioned her. ‘Cleaning his tack, ironing his shirts, and cooking the playboy’s meals should do it.’
‘You mentioned dancing?’ she said as he helped her to dismount.
‘Yes. We’re having a party at the estancia this evening.’
Holly hummed. ‘I’d watch your toes if I were you.’
* * *
The Christmas Eve celebration was being held in the main courtyard and, dressed in jeans with her hair piled up high, Holly had pitched in with the staff to help them dress the walls and balustrades with garlands of flowers to augment the colourful blossom in the garden. The cobbled area was lit by candlelight and torches held in high brackets on the walls, and there was a full moon that cast a spotlight on the glittering fountains. The band was already playing sexy South American music and there were professional dancers on hand to demonstrate the various styles of dance to the guests, as well as enough food and wine to feed an army. The banquet had been set out on trestle tables dressed with crisp white linen, boasting silver cutlery and twinkling crystal. Holly was just about to go and get changed when the biggest surprise of the night waylaid her. Lucia had arrived under cover of darkness to surprise her brothers. The two girls had been in touch by e-mail in order to spring a few more surprises before the night was out.
‘It’s just like the old days at school,’ Lucia commented, handing over Holly’s Christmas present. ‘All this subterfuge, with the added amazingness of you and my brother falling in love—’ Lucia broke off to give Holly the biggest hug ever. ‘Come on, sister-to-be, let’s go and get changed. You can hardly arrive at the party wearing jeans.’
The outfit Lucia had chosen for Holly was spectacular. The slinky dress in vivid red had a low vee neck and the highest of high hemlines. Lucia had also chosen a pair of silver sandals with stratospheric heels to wear with it.
‘You look fabulous,’ Lucia exclaimed when they had sneaked into Holly’s bedroom and locked the door securely behind them. ‘Now get those sandals on,’ she prompted. ‘If Ruiz loved you before, his tongue will be sweeping the floor when he sees you wearing this …’
‘I’d rather Ruiz kept his tongue in his mouth,’ Holly remarked dryly, turning her head to examine her back view in the full-length mirror.
‘The answer is no,’ Lucia assured her. ‘It doesn’t look big. It looks perfect. You look perfect.’
‘And you shouldn’t be spending so much money on me.’
‘And you weren’t supposed to pay me any rent,’ Lucia countered. ‘I couldn’t believe it when I saw the amount you put into my bank account.’
‘The column is going well.’
‘That doesn’t matter. Whoever gave you my bank details is so dead!’
‘Take the money. I can afford to pay you the going rate,’ Holly reminded her best friend. And didn’t that feel good. ‘You look pretty fabulous for a change,’ she added wryly, staring with renewed interest at her beautiful friend. ‘What’s the special occasion, Lucia?’
‘Only pretty fabulous?’ Lucia said worriedly, examining her back view in the same mirror.
‘You know you look as gorgeous as you always do,’ Holly volunteered. ‘But you still haven’t told me what the special occasion is …’
‘Why does it have to be special? It’s just a family party.’
‘And you are making a very special effort,’ Holly noted as Lucia checked her make-up in the mirror.
‘Okay, so I hear Nero Caracas is bringing his polo team as well as his new wife and baby tonight,’ Lucia explained off-handedly. ‘Which means Luke Forster, that American polo player, will be at the party. Don’t look like that, Holly. Luke’s far too stern and serious for me. And he’s about ten feet tall.’
‘Poor man,’ Holly murmured, remembering she had seen the good-looking American commanding the field of play quite a few times during the game.
‘But I might enjoy teasing him,’ Lucia added thoughtfully as she arranged her ample breasts in the low-cut dress.
‘Excellent news for Luke,’ Holly agreed tongue in cheek. ‘So are you ready to spring our surprise?’
* * *
Ruiz, meanwhile, was pacing up and down his bedroom with the phone gripped so tightly in his hand it was threatening to break apart. ‘What do you mean you couldn’t arrange it? I told you well in advance what I wanted. Plus there’s an agreement between our two countries so there shouldn’t have been a problem. What has happened to the vet? How can he have left on another flight when I booked him? I booked the jet, damn it!’ Ruiz thundered. ‘Who the hell countermanded my order?’ Ruiz whirled around as one of his brothers poked his head round the door. He waved him away. Business was all-important, and when it was business concerning Holly nothing came before that.
‘Are you coming to the party, Ruiz?’ his brother Diego asked him, refusing to be so easily dismissed.
‘When I’m ready,’ he snapped.
‘Would you like me to look after Holly for you?’
His answer to that was to lob a polo ball at the door, which his brother dodged. ‘Only asking,’ Diego murmured, closing the door.
So his surprise for Holly was ruined, Ruiz raged inwardly. Lucky for him the jeweller in Buenos Aires hadn’t let him down. Checking the breast pocket of his jacket, he decided he’d better go down to the party, but he was nowhere near ready to give up on his other surprise for her yet.
* * *
Holly and Lucia had barely walked into the party when three of the Acosta brothers spotted their sister and came straight over. Their reunion was touching and Holly envied their closeness. This wasn’t the constant squabbling and petty jealousies Lucia had described at school. It was the deep and abiding affection of people who knew everything there was to know about each other, and made Holly long for her own family.
With all the constant squabbling and petty jealousies that might involve, she thought with amusement as Lucia batted the most formidable of her brothers, Nacho, on the head with her frivolous party purse. ‘How dare you summon me back like an employee, you great oaf? And what have you done with Ruiz?’ Lucia demanded, swinging round. ‘Holly has a special surprise for him and he’s not even here. Don’t tell me you’ve sent him back to London to work?’
Nacho huffed dismissively. ‘I can’t tell your brother Ruiz what to do.’
‘Quite right,’ Lucia agreed dryly. ‘Ruiz is too busy telling me what to do.’
As Lucia kissed each of her brothers in turn Holly grew increasingly anxious. Was her surprise for Ruiz going to fall flat?
‘Last time I saw Ruiz he was pacing his bedroom like a bear with a sore head,’ Ruiz’s brother Diego murmured discreetly in her ear. ‘I’d give him a few minutes.’
‘Thank you.’ Holly smiled her thanks.
As the darkly glamorous men peeled away to welcome their guests other men were drawn like moths to the two girls standing on the edge of the dance floor. Holly was quite relieved to see the driver who had brought her from the airport amongst them. He bowed so politely over her hand she was only too delighted to accept. He was fun, she remembered, as her portly partner chuffed his moustache before leading her onto the dance floor. The dress Lucia had given her was really working its magic, Holly thought as she started dancing. She had never worn such a beautiful party dress before. She glanced gratefully at Lucia, noticing with amusement that Lucia had just walked straight up to the attractive American polo player, Luke Forster, only to veer away at the very last moment on the pretext of tugging one of her brothers onto the dance floor. It was also interesting to see Luke Forster’s brooding amber gaze following Lucia as she sashayed off.
Holly had only been dancing with the driver for a few minutes when another man tapped the driver’s shoulder and cut in. This man spoke no English, but he danced well and held Holly at arm’s length so their bodies always had air between them. She was really enjoying herself, though still worrying about Ruiz and wondering where he could be. And then a younger man, who had clearly had too much to drink, decided it was his turn to take Holly on a drunken lurch around the floor. Unfortunately his grip was so secure she couldn’t break free, and now Lucia was making frantic signals from the edge of the dance floor. Like a drama slowly unfolding that no one could stop, Holly saw Ruiz emerge from the house and stand at the top of the steps to scan the dance floor. The young man who had Holly in his grip decided that this was the perfect moment to launch his assault. Wet lips pursed, he darted his head forward, and as she whipped her head away to avoid him a big black shape launched itself on Holly and her partner, barking wildly as it knocked them to the floor.
‘Bouncer?’ Holly exclaimed, wiping muddy paw marks from her arm. She looked up to find Ruiz dressed in full evening rig standing over her. He looked more magnificent and formidable than she’d ever seen.
‘No harm done,’ Ruiz said in a tone Holly had never heard him use before as he brushed the man’s suit down and called for one of the gauchos to escort him away. ‘How the hell did Bouncer get here?’ he demanded with frustration.
‘Please don’t be angry with Holly,’ Lucia begged him, hanging onto her brother’s arm.
Easing himself free, Ruiz took hold of Holly. ‘Well?’ he murmured.
Their faces were very close. Ruiz’s mouth was almost touching hers. Everyone at the party was frozen to the spot, sensing drama. There was no music, no chatter, not a sound to be heard—until Bouncer whimpered and both Holly and Ruiz knelt simultaneously on the ground to make a fuss of him. As if this were the signal everyone had been waiting for the music started up again and the dance floor came back to life.
‘Happy Christmas, Ruiz,’ Holly murmured, staring across Bouncer’s head into Ruiz’s eyes. ‘I think Bouncer had this planned from the first moment we met, though Lucia brought him over in the private jet with the vet,’ she explained, ‘and as Bouncer has had all his shots and has a pet passport and Argentina has the same arrangement for allowing pets to travel as the EU …’
‘This I know,’ Ruiz assured Holly, softly holding her within an inch of his mouth as he lifted her to her feet. ‘I do deal quite a lot with the authorities in both countries, you know? Shipping ponies?’ Ruiz’s lips tugged in his trademark smile. ‘I tried to bring Bouncer over to surprise you for Christmas too, but it appears you beat me to it.’
His brothers, hearing this, congratulated Holly.
‘Nice to know someone can get the better of you, Ruiz,’ the great Nacho Acosta commented dryly before moving away to ensure the party didn’t flag.
‘I thought it would be better for Bouncer to live here on the pampas than in London,’ Holly admitted. ‘Your brothers agreed. But then I hesitated until Nacho said you had mentioned the same thing to him.’
‘Nacho agreed to Bouncer coming to live here?” Ruiz demanded with surprise.
‘He did more than that. Nacho arranged the jet,’ Holly explained. ‘He said it was a long journey for a rescue dog to take unaccompanied, but with Lucia and a vet on hand he thought it might be possible.’
‘Dios!’ Ruiz glanced at his brother who raised a glass.
‘Are you pleased with your surprise?’ Holly asked anxiously.
‘I couldn’t be more pleased,’ Ruiz said, holding Holly a little closer as the dance floor filled up. ‘But you’ve left me without the possibility of giving you a surprise.’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I can’t believe we’ve exhausted your repertoire yet …’
Ruiz’s wicked mouth tugged in a grin. ‘So you don’t need a surprise right here, right now?’
‘In front of all these people? Absolutely not,’ Holly murmured.
‘What am I going to do with this, then?’
She stared at the small jewel box. ‘What is it?’
‘The next headline for your column,’ Ruiz said dryly.
‘If that’s what I think it is.’
‘It is,’ Ruiz murmured, ‘but I think you’d better get out of that dress first.’
Holly sucked in a breath, remembering only now that her dress was ruined and covered in mud.
‘We have very good dry cleaners in Argentina,’ Ruiz reassured her, slipping the jewel case back into his pocket.
‘But I couldn’t possibly let you pay the bill …’
Their faces were very close as both of them relived a day in London that seemed such a long time ago now.
‘Shower?’ Ruiz murmured with a very particular look in his eyes.
‘As soon as possible,’ Holly agreed.
‘Ruiz and Holly. I like the sound of that,’ Ruiz commented as they strolled back to the house together arm in arm.
‘Holly and Ruiz,’ Holly corrected him.
‘I’ll go for that,’ Ruiz conceded. It was an easy victory for Holly. He was just quietly celebrating that the world and everything in it was his now, while Bouncer, who was safely back in Lucia’s keeping, barked his satisfaction at a job well done.
* * *
‘So what do you think, Holly?’ Ruiz demanded as Holly stared in thrilled delight at the huge ruby on her wedding finger.
‘I think you’re a very dangerous man,’ she said as Ruiz moved behind her.
‘Have you only just noticed that?’ Ruiz murmured against her neck.
As she turned in his arms Ruiz’s gaze slipped to her lips. ‘Stop it,’ she warned him softly as he whispered a world of wickedness in her ear.
‘No one will notice if we don’t return to the party right away …’
Ruiz had a point. He also had a formidable erection. And as they were both standing naked beneath the shower she thought it rude not to seize the moment.
It’s big and red and fits me perfectly. Rubies are the perfect choice for a fiery redhead, Ruiz told me. You can know his name now, seeing as the playboy and the redhead are going to be headline news in the next issue of this magazine—front cover too.
And the column?
This column will continue, for, as my polo-playing bad boy points out, I can send copy to ROCK! from anywhere in the world, and there should be plenty more headlines to come—especially as Ruiz has three gorgeous brothers and a baby sister, my best friend, Lucia. You can read all about them here—The Good, The Bad, and The—
Well, not ugly, since all of them are stunningly glamorous, lead the most riotous lives, and are the best fun to be around. You’ll have to stay tuned to find out.
Hasta la vista! Here’s to the next time we meet.
The Argentinian’s Solace (#ulink_1a946270-ed9e-5fc8-a8ab-b7542363fe18)
Susan Stephens
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_39f3be05-8e69-50da-8580-b8e34c044f17)
SHE had to close her mind to the man on the shore. Getting the old boat safely into its berth was more important. But he was like an elemental force, his gaze fixed and unswerving, with the most magnificent physique Maxie had ever seen. Tall, ripped and tanned, with wild black hair and dangerous eyes. A gold earring glinted in what light there was. Low-slung jeans over a flat, muscular belly were enough to throw anyone off course…
So think of the snarling face that would stop a rhino in its track and your concentration will come flooding back.
She had sailed the boat this far and she wasn’t turning back now.
Bringing the trawler through mountainous waves single-handed had been nothing short of a miracle. They had barely made it out of the harbour when the skipper had declared himself out of action after consuming the greater part of a bottle of Scotland’s finest. Maxie would be the first to admit her qualifications for sailing a boat this size were slim. She had once helped to crew a sixty-eight footer, but this old rust-bucket was proving rather more cantankerous. And she was more than a bit rusty, Maxie accepted as the deck lurched beneath her feet.
Glancing at the man on the dock, she guessed he was waiting for her to fail. His massive forearms were crossed over his formidable chest, and his black eyes blazed with mockery and scorn.
‘Welcome to Isla del Fuego,’ Maxie muttered beneath her breath. But, however unfriendly the welcoming committee, she was going to berth this bucketing monster if it killed her!
Which it probably would, Maxie registered with panic as the ancient fishing craft crashed into the dock.
With relief she saw the elderly skipper had made it out of his bunk in time to take the wheel. Boiling black storm clouds suggested the weather wasn’t about to change any time soon, which for a wedding planner on a scouting trip for an excited bride was somewhere south of perfect. And if the man onshore worked for the Acostas, who owned the island, he would need some serious retraining in the art of welcoming guests before the wedding, Maxie concluded, trying not to look at his glowering face.
She could always tell Holly the island was unsuitable…
The idea flitted across her mind, but it wasn’t an option. She’d seen Scottish castles in worse settings transformed into fairytale palaces on a warm spring day, and damp French châteaux revealed in all their ancient glory when the sun shone. Plus, she trusted Holly. The bride was a smart girl, and June was a famously fabulous month in which to get married. Bottom line? If Holly wanted to get married on Isla del Fuego then it was up to Maxie to make it happen and the man on shore would just have to suck it up.
* * *
Dios! What had the storm washed in? Some pin-thin, drooping violet with—
With a very accurate and surprisingly powerful throw, Diego conceded as he caught the rope the girl tossed him. But she had no business sailing Fernando’s fishing boat—let alone slamming into the dock, thanks to her poor reading of the weather. She was lucky to be alive after sailing to the island in a storm.
‘Are you ready?’ she called, preparing to toss a second rope.
With his stiff leg he could only move at half her speed. The second she turned her back he limped as fast as he could to get into position before she could see him lurching like a drunk.
‘Here it comes,’ she warned him, in a voice that was both light and musical, yet which somehow crested the howl of the wind.
Catching the rope, he secured it. It appeared fate had a sense of humour, sending an attractive girl to the island when he could least handle the action. Resentment swept over him as he watched her darting nimbly about the deck. When his brother’s fiancée had called to warn him the wedding planner was on her way he had accepted his self-imposed exile was over, but to have some lithe young girl call time was insulting. He had come down to the dock to meet the principal of the events company—someone older and sophisticated, with a keen sense of style—not some kid in jeans and a hooded top with long dark hair hanging in sodden straggles down her back. Was his brother’s wedding of so little importance they’d sent some underling?
‘Well caught!’ she yelled, having fired another rope at him.
Well caught? There had been a time when nothing physical had been beyond him, but then his horse had rolled on him during a polo match, shattering the bones in his leg. It had been pinned in half a dozen places. He had been back on a horse and training rigorously, but it was more than a year since the accident and he had yet to regain the subtleties of sensation required for the top class game, leaving his future in polo uncertain.
‘No harm done,’ the girl yelled as she leaned over the rail to check the hull for damage.
‘It could have been a costly mistake,’ he roared back. ‘You’ve been lucky this time.’
‘Lucky?’ She laughed.
He felt a surge of interest, but in his current state that was soon snuffed out. She could take a look around the island and report back to Holly, but the moment the wind dropped she was history.
* * *
No one had said planning a wedding on a remote island would be easy, Maxie reasoned, dashing spray out of her eyes. And time was of the essence, the bride had insisted. No wonder, Maxie had thought when she’d seen a photo of the groom. She had always known organising a high-profile event on a tiny island would be fraught with difficulties, but she hadn’t bargained on being met by a man who made her heart beat nineteen to the dozen. She had always loved a challenge, but as a scholarship girl at an upscale school, with a home life that could best be described as chaotic, she’d made a choice early in life to remain safe on the outside looking in while other people enjoyed the arrangements she made for them.
Safe? Pulling back from the rail, she took a few steadying breaths before preparing to disembark. Nothing was safe here—especially the hard-eyed man on shore.
‘Watch your step,’ he barked as she started her perilous crossing of the narrow plank.
‘I will,’ she called back tensely, wondering why he didn’t come to help her if he was so concerned.
Oh, stop fussing. She could manage. She was fine. This commission was every wedding planner’s dream, and she had no intention of starting out by falling in the sea. A big society wedding between Ruiz Acosta, a fabulously wealthy Argentinian polo player, and Holly Valiant, a celebrity agony aunt who had made her name by writing a column based on living with Ruiz, would have readers hanging on Holly’s every word. Having tamed the playboy, Holly was about to marry him—and the world was waiting with bated breath to see the wedding. A wedding Maxie was going to arrange. It was a commission that would take her business to the next level, and as her income supported everything she cared about this trip was going to be a success.
The man onshore had turned his attention to the skipper. Maxie had the basics of Spanish, but she fell short where colloquialisms were concerned. ‘Is he offering to help us?’ she called out.
‘Something like that,’ the elderly skipper admitted sheepishly.
I bet, she thought, hoping Señor Acosta would have more charm. She stared at him again and quickly looked away. There was something in the man’s eyes that said he had the sort of experience no woman with any sense would choose to get close to. And Maxie had plenty of sense. Though she was lousy at relationships, Maxie conceded with a shrug. Her ideal date was a civilised chat in a civilised restaurant with a civilised man—not a walk on the wild side with a barbarian with an earring and tattoos. She couldn’t deny the man’s edgy good looks had stirred something inside her, but he was food for her fantasies and nothing more.
‘Are you from the bridal agency?’ he demanded in a deep, husky voice.
‘That’s right,’ she confirmed, halfway across the sloping plank. ‘Could you give me a hand?’ She had stopped in the middle of the plank, uncomfortably aware of the turbulent water churning greedily beneath her feet. If he’d grab her suitcase she could hold the guide ropes with both hands.
‘Try walking tall,’ he suggested. ‘Look where you’re going instead of looking down…’
Thanks very much. She’d take her chances with the fishes. But when he turned his irritation on the skipper she’d had enough. ‘If you have anything to say, you can say it to me,’ she insisted in Spanish. ‘I chartered the boat, and I made the decision to sail to the island.’
His gaze darkened. ‘You speak our language?’
‘I would have recognised your tone of voice if you’d been speaking in Ket…a language spoken only in Central Siberia,’ she muttered to herself—but he heard her.
‘If you’re so clever you should have more sense than to persuade an old man to bring you out to the island in a storm.’
Addressing his next words to Fernando, he spoke in a very different tone. ‘You look chilled to the bone, Fernando. You will stay in the guesthouse until the wind drops. I’ll have Maria come over with hot food and clean linen for you.’
‘Si, Señor Acosta, y muchas gracias.’
Señor Acosta? Maxie groaned inwardly. ‘So you’re Diego Acosta?’
‘Correct,’ he confirmed.
The ironic twist to the firm mouth might make her senses roar but this wasn’t the best of starts. Acosta might look more like a dangerous pirate than an international polo player, but his co-operation was crucial as he part-owned the island. ‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Señor Acosta,’ she said as she stepped with relief onto the shore.
Ignoring the hand she had extended in greeting, he turned away.
Diego Acosta wasn’t sophisticated and he wasn’t charming. He certainly wasn’t her usual type of wedding contact, who looked to Maxie for guidance. The idea of this man looking to anyone for direction was a joke.
‘Give me your bags, Fernando,’ he called out in Spanish, staring out to the boat over her head.
Diplomacy was an essential part of her skill set, Maxie reminded herself. She had dealt with plenty of difficult characters in the past—starting her training on her father, who had been a Class One bully when she was younger, before illness had reduced him to a shell. She had learned how to handle him and she would learn how to manage Diego Acosta—though she would have to be subtle. She couldn’t risk offending him. The Acosta family was so powerful they could destroy her hard-won reputation at a stroke. ‘I’m Maxie Parrish,’ she said, stepping in front of him so he couldn’t ignore her. ‘Holly’s wedding planner?’
The dark gaze blackened. What the hell had she said now?
Parrish? Memories festered inside him, though common sense told him Parrish was not an unusual name.
‘I spoke with Holly before I left the mainland—’ the girl was explaining.
‘Parrish?’ he interrupted, powerless to stem the tide of memories.
‘Yes, Maxie Parrish,’ the girl repeated. ‘From a company called Dream Weddings. Holly said she’d call to warn you I was arriving today.’
‘She did,’ he agreed, ‘but she forgot to tell me your name.’
‘Is there a problem with it?’ she demanded, smiling faintly.
‘Not at all,’ he assured her in the same detached tone. ‘I suppose I was expecting someone older.’
‘I wouldn’t send anyone else to scout a job,’ she assured him in the same courteous tone. ‘I always make the first visit and the last, Señor Acosta, as well as every other visit in between.’
She said this as if it were a gauntlet she was throwing down, but pleasantly. He wasn’t fooled. He could sense the steel beneath the accommodating manner, and his hackles rose even as more basic needs surged in response to this intriguing combination of feminine fragility and rock-solid resolve. Either way, with his brother on a polo tour and his bride-to-be at his side, Diego was stuck with their wedding planner—like it or not.
Diego Acosta was staring at her and frowning as if he thought they might have met before, which was impossible. She never forgot a face—and would never forget a face like his. ‘I can only apologise if this is a bad time for you—’
And then she saw the cane.
She should cut him some slack, Maxie resolved. A man like Diego Acosta, stripped of his full physical powers, would not be having a bad time—he would be having the worst time imaginable. She had researched the family to get a sense of who they were, and knew one of the brothers had been injured in a riding accident, but she hadn’t realised he was still suffering or that he would be her host on the island.
‘I’ll take your suitcase,’ he offered brusquely.
Disaster struck as he lifted it. His cane skidded on a stone and he stumbled. She reached out to save him, but it was the worst thing she could have done. Cursing viciously, he snatched his arm away and made off in the direction of the car park with one leg dragging badly. In the faint hope of building bridges, she chased after him.
‘I hope the weather’s better than this in June,’ she yelled against the wind. Even limping with a cane he had opened up quite a gap. ‘This might not look like a great venue at first sight, but I’m not easily put off.’ She wasn’t even sure if he’d heard her. They were heading down a stony path in the direction of a car park, where the only vehicle was a powerful off-roader. ‘Holly assures me the island is beautiful in June…’
He wheeled around so suddenly she almost cannoned into him. ‘And what do you think, Ms Parrish?’
With Diego Acosta towering over her it was hard to think at all. ‘I haven’t seen enough to make a judgement yet,’ she said honestly, wondering if her heart would slow down long enough for her to breathe. She had never experienced this sort of reaction to a man before, but Diego Acosta exuded a powerful sexual energy, which for someone with below average experience of men was quite something to take in.
‘Do you expect me to show you around?’ he asked, wincing as he eased his leg.
‘How kind of you to offer,’ she said mildly. She could feel the resentment crackling round him, but she wouldn’t want anyone to see her in pain, either—and at least he wasn’t bundling her back on the next boat. ‘I look forward to hearing everything you can tell me about the island.’
‘I can see this is going to be an interesting trip, Ms Parrish.’
Her composure was shattered by a single, burning glance. ‘My thoughts exactly,’ she agreed, wafting the hair out of her face with a suddenly shaking hand. ‘Shall I put my suitcase in the back?’
Her intention had been to save him the risk of stumbling again, but she’d only managed to create more offence.
‘I’ll take it,’ he snapped, his expression darkening as he swung her heavy bag from the ground as if it weighed nothing.
‘That’s very kind of you. And please don’t worry, Señor Acosta. I won’t be hanging around. This isn’t a pleasure trip for me—it’s purely business.’
‘What else would it be?’ Folding his arms, he leaned his tight hips against the side of the vehicle.
Her heart juddered uncontrollably. Diego Acosta might be the most arrogant man on the face of the earth, but her body liked him—far too much. ‘All I need while I’m here is a map and a bike,’ she explained, doubting any woman could remain immune to quite so much man.
‘A bicycle? On these mountains?’ Resting his stubble-blackened chin on one shoulder, Acosta shot an ironic glance at the jagged peaks surrounding them.
‘A motorbike,’ Maxie explained. ‘Your brother, Ruiz, said you have one on the island?’
‘Did he?’ Diego Acosta replied coolly. Dark eyes narrowed in suspicion as he stared at her. ‘I trust you’re not suggesting I lend you my bike?’
Her stomach tightened as he straightened up to his full, imposing height. ‘I ride a bike at home.’ She had the satisfaction of seeing surprise colour his arrogant gaze, but in the interest of good business she decided not to push too hard on this yet. ‘I quite understand if you’d rather not lend your bike to a stranger—’
‘You haven’t seen my bike,’ he said, with all the confidence of a man who hadn’t met too many women like Maxie before. ‘I think you’d be safer taking the Jeep.’
She recoiled at the put-down, but all she said was thank you. Who liked being patronised? But this wasn’t about Maxie’s pride. She was here for the bride, and to earn the money that kept her father safe and well looked after in a nursing home. Glancing inside the vehicle, she hoped Diego Acosta would take the hint. He might be impervious to the elements, but she was freezing cold and wet. She was glad when he swung the door wide, and launched herself into the welcoming warmth of the luxurious interior.
‘Now we wait for Fernando,’ he announced, bringing the gale from hell with him as he entered the vehicle. Tossing his cane in the back, he swung into the driver’s seat using just the formidable power in his arms.
She hoped they wouldn’t have to wait long. Every part of her was prickling with awareness in the confined space. They were seated so close—too close. To distract herself she reached inside her bag to find her business card. ‘You can check me out on this website.’ She held it out to him. ‘There are plenty of reviews from satisfied clients. I’m sure you won’t be disappointed with the services I offer.’
‘I should hope not.’
Something in Diego Acosta’s voice made heat curl low in her belly in a way that was both inconvenient and inappropriate. Silence was her safest bet, Maxie concluded, noticing he barely glanced at her card before stowing it in a pocket on the door, where it would probably stay until it yellowed.
Fernando joined them soon after, much to her relief. She gripped the seat as they drove off, but she needn’t have worried as Diego Acosta drove with the same arrant confidence with which he appeared to do everything else.
‘How long do you plan to stay, Ms Parrish?’
‘That’s hard to say…’ Her senses sharpened when he met her glance. ‘Except I’ll be as time-efficient as I can be.’ She guessed this was to reassure them both. She had a real sense of invading the dark space of a man who had retreated to this remote island after his accident and who wanted to be alone—and she was in no hurry to stay a moment longer than she had to.
‘How do you normally proceed?’ he demanded.
‘I spend a few days researching the bride’s preferred venue, deciding if it’s viable or not, and then I make suggestions, with photographs to illustrate my thinking.’
‘And when the weather’s like this?’ he said abruptly, making a gesture that encompassed the storm ravaged landscape outside the windscreen. ‘How do you tempt the bride then?’
‘The sky seems to be brightening,’ she pointed out, determined not to be put off at such an early stage. ‘The bride is already in love with Isla del Fuego, Señor Acosta, and please believe me when I say I won’t get in your way.’
‘I can’t see how we can avoid each other on such a small island.’
She tried reasoning that he’d been injured and craved solitude, and yet had been thrown into the path of a wedding—the most social of occasions. No wonder he was climbing the walls. But did he have to kick her on the way?
‘You’re very quiet,’ he observed.
Staring at impossibly strong forearms and powerful yet sensitive hands could do that to a girl. She quickly dragged her gaze away.
‘Are you regretting your decision to arrange a wedding here, Señorita Parrish?’
‘On the contrary, my mind is buzzing with ideas.’ He needn’t know the details.
‘Your name?’ he queried thoughtfully as they slowed to take a bend. ‘It seems familiar to me. Are you sure we haven’t met before?’
‘It’s quite a common name.’ She said this to a soundtrack of Fernando snoring. ‘I’m sure we haven’t met before. I would remember. And I doubt we move in the same circles.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ he said, frowning.
‘Just that I have never been to a polo match and I doubt you crash weddings.’
‘I’m surprised you haven’t added polo to your list of things to do,’ he said sharply. ‘You have been hired to arrange the marriage of a high-profile polo player.’
His concerns on behalf of his brother were understandable. ‘I’ve read a lot about the game, and I’ve watched a lot of films regarding the sport, documentaries—you know.’
‘Which is hardly the same thing as attending a match.’
‘That’s something I intend to put right as soon as I can. I’m looking forward to it,’ she added keenly. ‘It looks such a thrilling game!’
‘It is.’
She could have bitten off her tongue when he shifted position to ease his leg.
‘How long have you been in the wedding business, Señorita Parrish?’
‘Please—call me Maxie. Everyone does.’
‘Are you going to answer the question?’ he said, ignoring the olive branch.
‘Both Holly and your brother have my references,’ she said, rattled by this inquisition.
‘It’s a simple question.’ Diego Acosta swung the wheel so abruptly she was thrown into the side of the vehicle as the off-roader lurched onto a minor road. ‘Why should I read your references when you’re sitting next to me and can give me the answers yourself?’ he added, with a certain amount of justification and a whole heap of ire.
Because she had edited her CV so carefully, maybe? ‘I’m happy to answer any question you care to put to me.’ Within reason, Maxie amended silently.
There was a lot of information about herself that she didn’t share—like the fact she had been in business since the onset of her father’s illness and the cost of his nursing care meant she couldn’t earn enough working for anyone else on a fixed salary. She had struck out on her own, determined and desperate, with one goal in mind: her father’s dignity and privacy had to be preserved. And it had been. And would continue to be, whatever provocation Diego Acosta tossed her way.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_acf272dd-b6d7-5976-9300-bb812b012f38)
‘I’VE been arranging weddings for friends for as long as I can remember.’ Maxie had decided that if she was going to be forced to explain herself she might as well take the lead.
‘And why would they ask you?’ Diego Acosta demanded.
‘I guess because I was always the one who put on events at school. Arranging weddings turned out to be a natural progression of that.’ She only now realised that that was exactly what had happened.
‘How long is it since you left school?’
‘I’m twenty-six.’ And enough was enough. ‘I’ve been a successful wedding planner with my own company for over five years now, Señor Acosta.’
‘My brother led me to believe that his wedding planner would be someone older with a great deal of experience. And excuse me for saying so,’ he added, not sounding in the least bit sorry, ‘but you seem far too young to handle a job of this size and importance.’
‘All weddings are important to me,’ Maxie said, bridling. ‘And though I realise you are unlikely to have heard of me, please don’t judge a book by its cover, Señor Acosta. I may not wear a business suit while I’m traveling, any more than you wear one when you’re down on the dock, but I’m serious about what I do. And excuse me for saying so,’ she added, thinking it better to get things straight from the off, ‘I’m not your brother’s wedding planner. I was hired to do this job by Holly Valiant.’
‘I’m sure you’ll agree with me that Holly has a somewhat rose-tinted view of the island?’
‘As I said earlier, I haven’t had a chance to make any assessment yet. I’m completely impartial at the moment.’
And not about to roll over, Diego realised, fighting off the interest this provoked. If Maxie Parrish had anything to do with it this wedding would happen—and he was on notice. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had decided his agenda.
‘I do wonder,’ she said, distracting him, ‘if the island falls short in so many ways, why you chose to come here to recuperate?’
‘I beg your pardon?’ He couldn’t believe she had voiced those thoughts. No one mentioned his injury in front of him. No one even risked glancing at his leg. His brothers might—his sister Lucia definitely would. But strangers?
‘Sorry if I’m being nosy,’ she said. ‘I’m just curious as to what drew you here.’
‘Childhood memories,’ he said sarcastically, hoping that would shut her up. Everyone had tiptoed round him since the accident. No woman had ever challenged him. Yet this kid had jumped right in!
‘Whoa—slow down,’ she said, grabbing his arm as he stamped down on the gas.
He glanced at the tiny hand on his arm. She looked too, and quickly withdrew it. ‘I thought you liked speed?’ he mocked her, in a pointed reminder of her claim to ride a motorbike at home.
‘I ride my bike responsibly,’ she said mildly.
She wasn’t scared to take him on.
Seducing the wedding planner had never been part of his plan. It still wasn’t. He must have too much time on his hands even to let thoughts like that occur to him. The type of woman he favoured was older and knew the score. She knew how to dress and what to say. More importantly, she knew when to remain quiet. She did not look like a fresh-faced tomboy, who dressed like a boy and insisted on speaking to him like a man.
‘Are you all right, Fernando?’ She had turned to check on the elderly skipper.
‘My apologies if I woke you, Fernando,’ he said, glancing in the rearview mirror.
The old man was more interested in hearing what Maxie had to say. ‘Soy muy bien… Gracias, Maxie,’ he was saying, in a fonder tone than Diego had heard him use before.
When the girl had settled back in her seat she shot a glance at him. Was she reassuring him that Fernando was okay? Or was she playing it her way and to hell with him? She might look like a kid, but there was a lot going on behind that shrewd grey gaze, and he couldn’t help wondering what other surprises Ms Parrish had in store for him.
‘And when exactly did you learn to skipper a boat?’
‘I helped to crew a yacht once—a friend at school. Her father was mad for sailing.’
He shot her a look that suggested she was mad. He couldn’t believe she had thought it safe to transfer such tenuous experience to the open ocean in a barely seaworthy tub, but it told him something about her. She wasn’t afraid of a challenge. Her cheeks pinked up when she caught his cold, assessing stare. Those pink cheeks told him everything he needed to know. Maxie Parrish might think she had all the answers, but she had none where he was concerned.
A client was always right. A client’s brother-in-law-to-be had rights also—just so long as Diego Acosta didn’t mistake her for a doormat. He had begun questioning her again about how she had grown the business so quickly. His lack of confidence in her was no big deal. It took time to win a client over. And, in his favour, the fact that this wedding was so important to him showed a strong family bond between Diego and his brother Ruiz.
‘I had arranged quite a few weddings already when I was asked to plan one for a friend who works in television. She was so thrilled by the results that when she returned from honeymoon she asked if I could present a wedding feature for Valentine’s Day—the perfect wedding, that sort of thing. Everything took off from there and I haven’t looked back since.’
‘But you haven’t organised a wedding on a small island, where deliveries are uncertain and the electricity supply is erratic at best,’ he pointed out.
‘That’s true. But generators can be hired, and I would have any supplies we need shipped over well in advance. I’m happy to take on the challenge.’
‘I’m sure you are. And you’re nothing if not prepared.’ He shot a glance at her wet clothes.
‘Had I known I would be sailing a boat today, I would have worn something more appropriate.’
‘Why were you in charge of the boat?’ He glanced at Fernando through the rearview mirror.
Maxie checked too, only to find Fernando was snoring again. ‘Fernando was feeling a little unwell and I was glad to help out.’ She left it there. Maybe Diego Acosta was trying to catch her out or embarrass her, but whatever his motive she wasn’t going to land Fernando in trouble. ‘I enjoyed the experience,’ she said, brushing it off as if the terrifying voyage through raging seas had been nothing to her, ‘and I never make the same mistake twice.’
‘I should hope not,’ Diego Acosta replied.
For some reason she was staring at his lips. She quickly looked away. She might be soaking wet and freezing, but her body was distinctly warm. ‘If Holly decides to hold her wedding here and we encounter any problems, rest assured. I will deal with them.’
‘That’s what you’re being paid for, isn’t it?’
Diego Acosta grimaced and eased his leg as he spoke. She’d already worked out his mood was largely affected by pain or lack of it. ‘It is what I’m being paid for,’ she confirmed. And now she was wondering why, with all the money in the world to buy the best treatment available, the injury was still troubling him. And if it hurt so much why didn’t he just take something for the pain, like everyone else?
‘If this job is going to be too much for you, I’d rather you said so now,’ he said, throwing her a lifeline she was supposed to grab eagerly and with gratitude, Maxie suspected.
‘I always make a full evaluation before I come to any decision,’ she explained calmly.
Her work as a wedding planner gave her such an intimate window into people’s lives it wouldn’t be the first time she had been invited in only for a client to draw back and ask themselves if this stranger would be sensitive to their needs, or if their most intimate secrets were about to be raked over and exposed to public scrutiny. Just because Diego Acosta was a testosterone-packed hunk it didn’t mean she would treat him any differently from the rest.
‘I think I’ve already explained that I won’t need to trouble you for most of my time here.’
‘If you stay on the island,’ he said, as if this was by no means certain.
‘Why wouldn’t I?’ she countered, careful to keep her tone bland and friendly. ‘Judging by your earlier remarks, I assume you wouldn’t want Fernando risking his fishing boat a second time in a storm.’
The elderly skipper chose that moment to stop snoring, and lost no time endorsing her words with heartfelt agreement. Maxie guessed Fernando was in no hurry to leave Isla del Fuego until he had received some coddling from Diego Acosta’s staff.
‘If there’s a hotel here,’ she added, ‘I don’t even need to trouble you for a room.’
‘This is a small private island, with a small resident community,’ Diego Acosta pointed out. ‘There are no hotels, as such.’
‘Perhaps bed and breakfast in a private house?’ Maxie suggested hopefully.
‘You will find no fairy godmothers on Isla del Fuego with rooms to spare, Señorita Parrish,’ Acosta informed her.
No wonder. If there had been a fairy godmother her wand would have withered to a twig by now.
‘You will stay with me,’ he said, with zero enthusiasm.
Maxie’s throat dried. Stay with him? Yes, it made sense, but—
When in doubt, smile and say thank you. That was the advice she always gave to anxious brides. ‘Thank you,’ she said politely, and as that seemed to be the end of Diego Acosta’s welcome speech she directed her attention out of the window, to where the stubborn sea mist was lifting away like the curtains in a theatre, drawing back to reveal a scene that would make any audience gasp. Dramatic black peaks soared directly out of the raging sea, while at the side of the road luminous green foliage, made brilliant by the rain, competed for attention with striking banks of magenta blossom. ‘How wonderful,’ she murmured, forgetting the thunderstorm at her side for the moment.
‘I wouldn’t get your hopes up,’ Diego Acosta commented, with a particularly male brand of humour. ‘I live a rough, spare bachelor’s life on the island, with very few home comforts.’
‘I was referring to the view,’ Maxi explained, chalking one up to the wedding planner. ‘It’s absolutely stunning.’ And absolutely perfect for the wedding of a passionate couple like Holly and Ruiz, she thought.
Diego said nothing, but she noticed his fist tightening on the wheel. She guessed he would have preferred her to be a walk-over who would have given up on Isla del Fuego long before now, leaving him to brood alone. Hard luck, mister!
Did he read minds too? Maxie wondered when Diego Acosta shot her a glance. She was out of her depth here and they both knew it. She wasn’t exactly a vestal virgin. She knew enough about sex to hope that one day she’d meet someone who knew what they were doing. Diego Acosta knew. She could feel it. While he, like the hunter he most assuredly was, must have felt her heat as she responded to him.
‘There’s just one thing,’ he said.
Only one? ‘Yes?’ she enquired politely.
‘While you’re here you’d better call me Diego.’
She trialled the unfamiliar syllables beneath her breath. And shot bolt upright when she saw the look on his face. ‘Diego it is,’ she agreed, wondering if this might be just another ploy by Señor Acosta to make her feel uncomfortable.
‘While you stay on the island there are conditions,’ he said, adding to this suspicion.
She listened carefully as he listed the risks she might encounter on a volcanic island. She appreciated the heads-up, but it didn’t change her mind. Diego Acosta was by far the biggest danger she was likely to encounter.
‘Stray into caves and get lost—’ his tone of voice brought her back to full attention ‘—or climb peaks that are unstable and I won’t be able to help you.’
‘Bottom line: it would be unwise for me to go adventuring on my own,’ she said briskly.
‘Correct,’ he said. Relaxing back, he fell silent.
Maybe it was the hypnotic swish of the windscreen wipers, or maybe she had been too long out at sea, but the words just shot out of her mouth without the slightest intervention from her brain. ‘Perhaps it would be safer if you showed me round?’ she suggested.
‘Me?’ The black stare was incredulous.
She back-pedalled furiously, not wanting Diego Acosta to think she couldn’t handle this on her own. ‘Or I’m sure there’s someone else who can show me round—Fernando, for instance?’
‘Shouldn’t we let Fernando enjoy his break?’
She could hardly argue with that.
‘I’ll take you,’ Diego Acosta offered grudgingly.
Touring a mysterious island with Diego Acosta was not something a sensible woman would choose to do, but then he added, ‘Who knows the island better than me?’
Maxie could only respond with, ‘Thank you. I welcome any help you can give me. For Holly and your brother’s sake, I think we should both do our utmost to make this visit a success.’
A cynical smile greeted this, though Diego Acosta’s gaze remained fixed on the road. ‘It appears my brother’s fiancée has the most determined of champions.’
‘She does,’ Maxie confirmed, wondering if it would ever be possible to relax while Diego Acosta was around.
‘Is something troubling you?’ he prompted.
‘No. Nothing.’ She was staring at his thighs, Maxie realised, quickly looking away. They both looked equally impressive to her, but as that clearly wasn’t the case she couldn’t help wondering if he might benefit from the same massage therapy she had used to ease her mother’s pain. ‘I was just starting to plan,’ she said, arranging her face in a thoughtful expression.
‘Plans based on what?’
‘Plans based on what I’ve seen so far.’
‘They must be flimsy plans,’ Diego observed, slowing the vehicle. ‘Fernando,’ he said, glancing in the mirror, ‘this is where you’ll be staying until the weather settles.’
‘Gracias, Señor Acosta,’ the old man enthused.
Maxie stared out of the window at a picturesque dwelling painted blinding white. Lovingly restored, it had a flower-festooned entrance and brilliant green shutters either side of tall, arched windows. A cactus garden framed the villa in vivid spikes of green, while the glittering black lava in which it was planted provided a dramatic contrast. Beyond the unusual garden the ocean was slowly turning from sullen grey to crystalline blue beneath a rapidly brightening sky.
‘Do I get out here too?’ She was keen to investigate further.
‘No, you stay in the vehicle,’ Diego ordered as he opened the door to get out. ‘Unless you want to share the single bedroom with your skipper?’
‘No, thank you.’ Maxie firmed her lips. Each time she thought she was getting the hang of dealing with Diego he had some new taunt up his sleeve. And that slack she had thought she should cut him? She was all out of rope.
Maxie sat in the vehicle, tapping her fingers on her bag as she watched the two men stroll up the path. They appeared perfectly happy to leave her to her own devices…
* * *
He might have known Maxie wouldn’t stay where he’d left her. He had barely walked through the door when her heart-shaped face appeared at the window. Fernando beat a hasty retreat upstairs. He couldn’t blame the old man. It was time someone informed Señorita Parrish that while she was on the island she did as she was told. He gave her a black look when she smiled at him—his body responded also.
‘This is nice,’ she said when she walked through the door, ignoring his hostile manner as she stared around. ‘Do you mind?’ she said, lifting her camera.
‘You’re here. You might as well.’
She was already snapping away, while he was trying not to acknowledge the pleasing scent of rain-washed air she had brought with her into the house.
‘Perhaps some of the wedding guests could be housed here,’ she mused out loud.
‘I’ll have to see if the cottage is available.’
‘I’m sure you can make it so,’ she countered, with a smile he guessed she used on all her clients. ‘This place is beautiful,’ she enthused. ‘Did you design it?’
‘What do you think?’
She cocked her head to look him straight in the eyes. ‘I’m guessing no.’
‘You’d be right.’ He thumbed his stubble as he watched her at work, cursing the ruined leg that forced him to prop himself up against the wall.
‘Everything’s so well put together,’ she observed as she clicked away.
‘Blame my sister Lucia.’
‘Oh, I think she’s a marvellous designer.’
‘I’ll be sure to tell her you said so.’ He vaguely remembered Lucia saying that her hard-nosed brothers must understand that mellow furnishings and comfortable sofas were essential if they didn’t expect their guests to live like horses in a barn.
‘I love this!’ Maxie exclaimed, touching one of the hand-painted vases reverently.
He hummed and shrugged, refusing to admit that seeing what Lucia had done through Maxie’s eyes was a surprise to him too. Her final camera shot was one of him. ‘Holly will adore this,’ she assured him confidently. Having checked the image first, she brought it over to show him.
Her scent, her warmth, her physical presence after he’d been so long alone almost overwhelmed him. ‘Let’s draw a line under this,’ he said brusquely, barely glancing at the image. ‘I have things to do.’
‘Of course,’ she said, putting her camera away. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve delayed you, but I was just thinking we could use this room in some of the backgrounds for the album.’
‘Really?’ he said, wanting this over with. But in spite of his impatience his gaze found time to stray to her lips.
‘Settings like these,’ she was explaining, ‘will give such personality and uniqueness to the photographs. And these stone walls are lovely,’ she added, stroking them thoughtfully.
He was more interested in watching those small hands trace the centuries-old stone, until his leg chose to throb a warning that he wasn’t match-fit—for polo or for women.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, mistaking his grimace for a look of disapproval. ‘I must be keeping you.’ Another few moments passed. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ he bit out, but his damaged leg called him a liar and dragged as he moved past her to the door. Anger erupted inside him. The fact that Maxie’s breathing had speeded up when he brushed past her only heaped more humiliation on top of him.
‘Don’t worry—I’ll shut the door for you,’ she offered.
Catching hold of the door before she could reach it, he slammed it shut behind them, consoling himself with the thought that he had dealt with more wilful ponies than he could count, and the harder they were to handle at the start the better they pleased him when he finally broke them in.
He seethed all the way to the Jeep. Tossing his cane in the back, he swung in and Maxie jumped in beside him. Her lithe, agile form was another unintentional smack in the face for him, but as she turned to close her door her hair, which had dried into an inky cloud, brushed across his naked arm. He inhaled deeply, dragging in the scent of vanilla and lavender—a delicate and ultra-feminine combination he would never have expected the businesslike Maxie Parrish to choose.
‘Hurry up,’ he blazed as she fumbled with her seat belt. ‘I don’t have all day.’
‘You’ve really been very patient,’ she agreed. ‘I can’t thank you enough for showing me the cottage, and I promise not to take up so much of your time in future.’
He hummed sceptically in reply. She was good at pretty apologies. It remained to be seen how she behaved when he piled on the pressure. It hadn’t escaped him that the faster Maxie worked the sooner she would be out of here—and he could get back to licking his wounds in private.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_4fc6c412-1849-5f6e-9197-39a009e991cd)
HOLLY hadn’t warned Maxie what to expect when she arrived at the Acosta family’s holiday home, so when Diego drove over the brow of the hill she gasped. The elegant stone building looked more like a palace than someone’s occasional home.
Reaching for her camera, she asked, ‘Could you stop here for a moment?’
Diego Acosta drove on.
He had said he was in a hurry, Maxie remembered as the viewpoint disappeared behind them, and she could always come back alone.
She couldn’t have been more surprised when he drew to a halt on the cliff edge and with a nod of the head indicated she should get out here. Not very gallant, but she’d take what she could get.
She had to concede he was right. This was a much better view, Maxie realised as she climbed down from the vehicle. The palatial old house sat on the top of a black lava cliff. At the foot of this a ruffled silver ocean stretched to the brightening horizon. The rain had stopped and the wind had dropped. She hoped the fresh air would clear her head, and made a play of fiddling with her lens to buy some time away from him.
‘If you angle your camera like this…’
She started at the sound of Diego’s voice. She hadn’t even heard him coming. Lightning bolts shot down her spine when he reached across to tilt her camera.
‘You can capture the house framed by the mountains on one side and the ocean on the other,’ he explained. ‘It’s a famous view.’
Thankfully, he backed off while she worked, swiftly and efficiently, remembering he’d said he had other things to do.
‘That was a great camera opportunity. Thanks for stopping,’ she said when she joined him in the Jeep.
The massive shoulders eased in a so what? shrug. ‘Research is what you’re here for, isn’t it?’
‘That’s right,’ she agreed, putting her camera away neatly in spite of the fact that Diego Acosta’s darkly glittering glamour was distracting to the point where her fingers were co-operating like sausages. She was used to men who came in uniformly drab design and were all the safer for it.
They drove into the Acosta holiday home compound through some impressive wrought-iron gates and turned into a cobbled courtyard framed by lushly planted flowerbeds. The planting was in stronger colours than Maxie was used to, but it worked here—the scale, the colour, everything was bold. In the centre of the courtyard there was a fountain, spurting plumes of water into the air, while shrubs and trees softened the edges of the old stone house. And the house, far from being the gloomy lair she had half expected Diego might inhabit, appeared to be a beautifully restored piece of history that had been loved and cherished over the years.
He parked at the foot of a wide sweep of stone steps at the top of which stood an older woman in front of some solid-looking double doors. The doors were open wide in welcome, and were flanked by twinkling windows that gave an impression as warm as the woman’s smile.
‘Welcome to Palacio Acosta,’ Diego said. ‘Or as some have dubbed it,’ he added with a cynical curve of his lips, ‘Palacio Too-antiquated-for-words.’
‘Well, I think it’s lovely!’ Maxie exclaimed, wondering who on earth could have said such a thing. The thought that it might have been one of Diego’s ex-girlfriends made the hair stand up on the back of her neck. Not that it was any of her business.
‘May I introduce our wonderful housekeeper, Maria?’ Diego said politely, standing back at the top of the steps so the two women could meet.
‘I’m very pleased to meet you—’ The words were barely out of Maxie’s mouth when Maria gathered her close for a bear hug. If Maria worked for a monster she was certainly resilient, Maxie reflected when the housekeeper finally released her.
‘I’m going to check the horses,’ Diego said, swinging away. ‘Maria will show you where everything is.’
‘Thank you. And thank you for collecting me at the dock.’ She hadn’t expected him to stick around, but it would have been nice. Nice? It would have been challenging, electrifying, and all the other words associated with extreme sport. ‘See you later.’
Business came first, and bearing in mind Diego’s warnings about the terrain she thought it wise to arrange an agenda with him so they could discuss safety issues further.
Turning, he gave her a look that made Maxie wonder if she had sounded desperate. ‘I imagine our paths will cross again as we’re living in the same house,’ he observed coolly.
‘Whenever suits you.’ She didn’t need to turn her back to hide her red cheeks. He’d already gone. Unaccountably she felt the loss of him already, Maxie realised as Diego limped away.
* * *
The moment he was out of earshot, he rang his brother. ‘What the hell are you trying to do to me, Ruiz?’ Diego demanded furiously, grimacing as he leaned back against a fence post to ease the pressure on his leg.
‘If I knew what you were talking about,’ Ruiz replied, ‘maybe I could help. Your temper certainly hasn’t improved,’ he observed. ‘My advice to you is to get back on the polo circuit as fast as you can.’
‘Don’t you think I want to?’ Diego roared over the crackling line to Argentina, where Ruiz was currently playing the game they both loved, with Holly cheering him on from the sidelines. Shouldn’t Holly be here to deal with her pain-in-the-ass wedding planner? ‘Don’t you think I’m obsessed with getting back into the game?’ he flashed on the heels of this thought.
‘I’ve never heard you so angry before,’ Ruiz commented laconically.
‘We might be brothers, Ruiz, but there are limits to what I’m prepared to do for you. I came here to recover in private—not to play host to some confetti addict.’ He stopped at the sound of a muffled protest, and then sighed as his soon to be sister-in-law, the well-named Holly Valiant, seized the phone from his recently reformed playboy brother.
‘You won’t have to do a thing, Diego,’ Holly promised him breathlessly from the other side of the world. ‘Maxie is the most fantastic wedding planner. She will do everything. You have met her?’ Holly prompted when he said nothing. ‘She has arrived, hasn’t she?’ Holly asked with growing concern.
‘She’s here,’ he confirmed flatly.
‘Brilliant,’ Holly enthused, completely missing the warning note in his voice. ‘There’s nowhere else on earth I would rather be married than Isla del Fuego.’
‘You will have to excuse me, Holly,’ he broke in politely. ‘I have things to do. We can talk about your wedding some other time.’
‘Oh…’ All the air left her sails. ‘Of course,’ she said quickly. ‘I imagine you’re busy with the horses.’
Another long silence followed, and he could imagine Holly wondering if she’d said the wrong thing again. ‘Yes, I’m busy with the horses,’ he confirmed, to put her out of her misery. His attention switched to the ponies in the paddock, and to the one in particular that had fallen on top of him during the match. Months had passed since then, and the horse looked well and was moving easily—which was more than could be said for his owner, Diego reflected grimly.
‘Is there something wrong?’ Holly asked, forcing him to refocus on the call.
‘Not really… There is one thing. The name of your wedding planner.’
‘Maxie Parrish?’ Holly supplied with her usual enthusiasm. ‘She’s great, isn’t she?’
‘Could you put my brother on the phone?’ he said, keeping his voice carefully neutral.
‘Of course…’
He could hear the strand of anxiety in Holly’s tone, and then she covered the handset and said something to his brother.
‘Diego?’ Ruiz drawled, in a voice that suggested there were plenty of things he would rather be doing than talking to his brother.
‘Parrish?’ Diego drove on. ‘Holly’s wedding planner is called Maxie Parrish.’
‘So?’ Ruiz queried.
‘Parrish,’ he repeated.
‘Dream Events is the name of the company, isn’t it?’ Ruiz remarked vaguely, clearly far more interested in his bride-to-be than anything else. ‘Her references checked out. Even I was impressed. There must be thousands of girls with the surname Parrish, Diego. And, anyway, you should be over that.’
Maybe he should be, but he wasn’t.
‘It can’t be the same family,’ Ruiz said confidently.
‘And you know this for a fact?’
But Holly had seized the phone again. ‘Have I done something wrong?’ she said. ‘Please tell me if I’ve done something wrong, Diego.’
‘You have done nothing wrong,’ he soothed.
Where could he begin? And why rake up the past and ruin Holly’s romantic moment? She wasn’t to blame for a tragedy Diego had set in motion all those years ago.
‘Would it be better if we rang you some other time?’ Holly was asking with growing concern.
‘No,’ he said, making a conscious effort to gentle his tone. ‘Tell me about the plans you’d like for your wedding, Holly.’
He felt bad when he realised all the fizz had left her voice, but she soon recovered, and as Holly started telling him her exciting news he drifted back to a black time in his life when he had taken one too many risks with tragic consequences. His time out now, with his injury from the polo field, could only be a relief for his opponents—for when Diego played he remembered what he’d done, and when he remembered he cared for nothing. Which made him a danger not only to himself but to everyone around him.
‘You should get back to the game,’ Holly told him softly, as if she could read some of these thoughts. ‘You’re needed, Diego. Your brothers need you. The team isn’t the same without you.’
He hummed. ‘I’m trying, Holly.’
‘I know you’re training every day. Things will get easier, Diego—trust me. And if it’s my wedding that’s bothering you—’
‘There are other places you could get married,’ he pointed out as Maxie’s face flashed into his mind.
‘But none as beautiful as Isla del Fuego,’ Holly argued.
He gazed in silence across the paddock towards the sea, seeing the view as if through Maxie’s camera lens. It was a scene of almost theatrical grandeur, he conceded. The pewter sea, in perfect accord with his mood, thundered against the black lava cliffs, casting diamond spray into the air. And when the sun shone…
‘Are you still there, Diego?’ his brother demanded, having taken the phone from Holly.
‘I’m still here,’ he confirmed. In body that was true, but his mind had strayed back to the past.
‘How many people in the world have the surname Parrish?’ his brother demanded. ‘I know that’s what’s worrying you. Come on, Diego,’ Ruiz insisted impatiently. ‘You’re the numbers guy in the family. You should know.’
This was true, and was thanks mainly to their elder brother Nacho, whose foresight and love had saved Diego from the blackest despair. Back in his arrogant youth Diego had lost money in a deal gone unimaginably bad, and it was Nacho who had told him that if Diego wanted to handle money he should learn how. Diego had gone on to train as an accountant, and now controlled all the family finances.
‘Are you still there, Diego?’ Ruiz pressed.
‘I’m still here,’ he confirmed.
‘You’re far too tense,’ Ruiz commented dryly. ‘And I think we both know the reason for that. According to Holly, Maxie Parrish is a good-looking woman, and you are on the island together—practically alone. Have you lost your edge, Diego?’
He stared down at the receiver as if this was news to him, and then said, ‘Maybe I’m not that interested?’
‘And maybe you’re kidding yourself!’
‘And maybe you’re in danger of sharing the same rose-tinted spectacles as your bride.’
‘Leave Holly out of this,’ Ruiz warned.
‘All I need is a sound leg, a good mount and a chance to get back to the game I love,’ he thundered.
‘We’ll talk again when you’ve come to your senses,’ Ruiz said, leaving him staring in frustration at the phone.
* * *
‘What a wonderful home!’ Maxie exclaimed, turning full circle to soak up the atmosphere in the elegant and welcoming hallway as Maria bustled round with pride.
‘This house has been in the Acosta family for generations,’ Maria explained.
‘What a marvellous heritage,’ Maxie said, thinking back to her own, very different family home. The father who had been so unkind to her mother when she was young had been broken by her mother’s illness. It had been a struggle for him to keep up with all the extras her mother had needed, so, understandably, home comforts had been low on his list. When a hole had appeared in the sofa Maxie had thrown a rug over it, and on one famous occasion she had deconstructed a carpet sample book to patch the stairs. ‘My mother would have loved this,’ she said wistfully, turning slowly to take everything in. She hardly realised she’d been speaking out loud until she felt Maria’s compassionate touch on her arm.
‘Come,’ Maria insisted, shepherding her towards a magnificent mahogany staircase.
There was no patching here. An impeccable runner in mellow earth tones climbed the polished stairs and was held in place by gleaming brass stair rods. The effect was both impressive and cosy.
It was too late to help her mother now, or to wish that her parents’ lives could have been easier, but at least her work allowed her to earn enough to make her father’s last years comfortable.
‘Please,’ Maria encouraged, pointing to Maxie’s camera.
The Acosta home was so much more than a sum of its parts, Maxie realised as she looked at everything through her lens. The rugs were a little faded, and had been worn thin by the passage of many feet, but they were all the more attractive for that. Everything was a little rough around the edges, she noticed now, but that only added to the ambience of a much-loved home. It was a warm, happy home, and she could feel the influence of previous generations all around her.
‘I love this house!’ she exclaimed impulsively. She loved the grand piano sitting discreetly beneath the sweeping staircase, with a stack of music to one side as if the pianist had just stepped out for a moment. She loved the family photographs clustered on top of it, and the scent of beeswax in the air. ‘There couldn’t be a better setting for a family wedding,’ she said to Maria.
‘Perfecto,’ Maria agreed, nodding and smiling as if she and Maxie were as one.
‘I’m going to call Holly right away and confirm her choice of venue,’ Maxie enthused, remembering that first there was another call she had to make…
* * *
Her first evening with Diego loomed. Oh, good, Maxie thought wryly, wondering how that would turn out as she brushed her waist-length hair for the umpteenth time. Blue-black and gleaming now she’d washed the salt out of it, her hair lifted and floated around her shoulders in most un-Maxie-like abandon. She usually tied it back for business. She had intended to tie it back tonight, but for some reason she wanted Diego to see her looking relaxed, for him to know that he didn’t scare her.
Though goodness knows what they’d talk about, Maxie mused as she studied her perplexed reflection in the mirror. What she knew about polo could be safely inscribed on the top of a pin, while Diego was hardly the typical wedding cake fanatic. But this was work, and she’d get on with it. Replacing the silver-backed hairbrush on top of the lovingly polished French antique dressing table, she stood and frowned, remembering the news from the nursing home hadn’t been good. Every day she hoped for improvement, knowing deep down it would never come.
She must remain focused on her work, Maxie reflected, firming her jaw. Work kept her grounded. Work paid the bills. Work kept her father safe.
Walking across the faded Aubusson rug to the beautiful old armoire, she picked out one of her ‘all occasions’ dresses. In pale cream silk it was equally suitable for an up-town business meeting or supper with friends. It was the dress she chose when she didn’t want to look as if she was trying too hard. She teamed it with a pair of discreet nude-coloured sandals, then applied some shadow to her eyes, and some lipgloss. Now she was ready to face the tiger in his lair.
It was hard to remain tense in such a beautiful setting, Maxie realised as she walked across the room. Mellow evening light was streaming through the French doors dressed with filmy white muslin, while the open windows brought the scent of the beautifully tended gardens into the room. The bedroom was incredibly feminine, with several flower arrangements she had no doubt Maria had arranged, while a grand old four-poster bed took centre stage. Draped with floating ivory fabric, it had a beautiful hand-stitched quilt that picked up all the various pastel shades. She would never choose to decorate a room so prettily herself, but she loved it so much it made her wonder if she’d grown up practical because she’d had to be, or if practical was her nature. The only certainty was that tonight she was having supper with an unpredictable man, Maxie concluded. And he was probably counting down the seconds until she left.
‘Diego!’ It took her a moment to gather herself when she found him standing outside her room. ‘Are you waiting for me?’
He was leaning against the wall, and the look he gave her suggested Maxie was in serious danger of flattering herself. ‘I was on my way down to supper,’ he said, giving her a lazy once-over. ‘I presume that’s where you’re heading too?’
She was burning from his scrutiny while he looked amazing. How was it that some people only had to throw on a pair of jeans and any old top to look good? She could smell the soap from his shower, and his thick black hair was still a little damp and curling wildly round his swarthy face, catching on his stubble. But when he straightened up and she saw the cane propped against the wall she knew he had probably stopped outside her room because his leg was hurting him, and as they walked towards the head of the stairs she tried to measure her step to his without making it seem too obvious. His leg seemed stiffer than ever tonight, and she wondered if the damp weather had affected it. Hanging back, she could see how heavily he was relying on his cane.
He was glad Maxie was behind him and couldn’t see the surprise on his face. Discovering the young tomboy transformed into a poised and confident woman had been a revelation to him. But why was he surprised? She was a successful businesswoman. He just hadn’t had it thrust in his face before. She looked stunning in the simple dress, and he could imagine her walking into a meeting and getting any terms she wanted out of her suppliers—an image that irritated him when he thought of the men she would meet in the course of her work. Perhaps Ruiz was right about the route to rehabilitation and relaxation.
Right on cue the muscles in his leg stabbed a warning that he was more likely to grind his jaw in pain than soften his lips to seduce Maxie.
‘I love your house,’ she commented as they walked downstairs.
‘It isn’t strictly mine,’ he said, putting her straight. ‘The family shares it.’
‘Don’t you think that’s why it’s so lovely?’ she said, pausing to examine an old oil painting of some disreputable-looking ancestor.
The Acosta men hadn’t changed that much, he reflected, then, realising Maxie was waiting for him, wondered if she was taking it slowly on purpose—making allowances for him?
‘I think it’s a real family home,’ she said, oblivious to his blackening mood.
‘Yes, it is,’ he said, waiting for her to go first before he tackled the last flight of stairs.
‘Don’t you love this hallway?’ she said, trailing her slender fingers down the mahogany banister as she reached the hall ahead of him.
He concentrated on her naked shoulders and the cascade of silky black hair tumbling in luxuriant waves to her waist. This led him on the shortest of journeys to the neat curve of her buttocks, clearly visible beneath the clinging fabric of her dress.
‘Well, I think it’s perfect!’ she said, turning to look at him.
‘I can’t see much wrong with it,’ he agreed.
‘How wonderful to have holidayed here when you were children. I love visiting houses like this.’
The last girl he had brought to the palacio had asked for the ‘powder room’ in order to touch up her make-up. Then she’d told him she hated the house. It was so dated, she said, proceeding to give him a list of requirements for her next visit. Fortunately the sea had been calm that day. He’d shipped her out on the next boat.
Maria was in the kitchen with an array of dishes that would have fed an army of gourmands. He ate in silence, while Maxie and Maria chatted away like old friends. Maxie handed him an agenda of things she wanted to cover, and he might have been surprised by her approach if he hadn’t seen her dressed for business as she was tonight. He accepted the paper from her, glanced at it, and got on with his meal, wondering again about the tomboy who could transform herself so convincingly into a sophisticated businesswoman in no time flat. Did she have a boyfriend—a lover? Maybe she had children? He didn’t know anything about her. Maybe she was married? That thought made him tense.
When they had finished the meal and the dishes were being cleared away—a duty Maxie had insisted on sharing with Maria—she tossed him a cloth. ‘Wipe the table down, will you?’ she asked him casually. ‘While I load the dishwasher?’
He stared at the cloth in his hands while Maria, clearly in shock, bustled across the room to take it from him. His grip on the cloth tightened. ‘Take the rest of the evening off,’ he told Maria. ‘You deserve it. And thank you for a delicious supper.’
‘Gracias, Señor…’ Maria said, backing out of the kitchen as if she never wanted to forget the sight of him holding a cleaning cloth.
Maxie had her back turned to him as she continued clearing up. When she’d switched the dishwasher on, she straightened up and turned round. ‘Would you like to see the shots I’ve taken so far?’
Remembering the quicker Maxie got what she’d come for, the quicker he could be alone again, he said, ‘Why not?’
He had to admit Maxie surprised him yet again. She might be an excellent wedding planner, but her photographs were also out of the ordinary. She had shown the island in a way he’d never seen it before, highlighting aspects which transformed it from a forbidding prison into a treasure trove of possibilities. Seeing Isla del Fuego through Maxie’s eyes was a revelation to him.
‘Is something wrong?’ she asked when he grimaced.
‘No. Everything’s good.’ Except his leg, which was cramping again. ‘Your photographs are very good.’
‘Thank you.’ She turned to go. ‘An early night for me, I think,’ she advised him as she headed for the door.
Animal instincts battled with his common sense, while his leg screamed in protest. ‘Buenas noches, señorita,’ he ground out as she left the room.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_7f5572d7-f6e0-5b0a-b924-ce10325a2ba8)
SHE had had the worst night’s sleep ever. Was it wrong to want a man who looked like a pirate to behave like one? Was it crazy to lie in bed wondering what would happen if she crept to the door and left it temptingly ajar? As if she’d be so stupid. She wouldn’t have the first idea of what to do if she had done something so ridiculous and Diego had walked in. She had heard him coming upstairs and remained absolutely still as she’d listened to the water run while he took his shower. She had imagined him standing beneath the spray naked. No wonder she’d had a sleepless night.
Leaping out of bed, she drew the curtains on a brand-new day. The sun was shining and it was hard to believe she had been greeted yesterday by stormy skies and a glowering man. Opening the window and leaning out, she dragged in the scent of blossom and grass, intensified by the refreshing rain and now the warmth of the sun. So where was Diego? She glanced round the empty gardens, guessing he’d be with his horses. She’d take a shower, make her calls, and then she’d check the agenda she’d given him. She had no time to waste on fantasies involving dangerous men sweeping sensible girls off their feet and carrying them away to make passionate love to them until they couldn’t stand.
But she was only human, and Diego Acosta was one heck of a man.
* * *
He had been up before dawn, after a restless night spent tossing and turning at the thought of a woman he wanted in his bed sleeping in a room just down the landing.
So what had held him back?
Slamming his cane against the wall with a vicious curse, he took a shower and changed into clean jeans, desert boots and the first top that came to hand. Opening his bedroom door, he found her walking down the landing towards the stairs.
‘Good morning, Diego,’ she called to him, oblivious to his black mood. ‘I hope you slept well?’
‘Maxie,’ he said briefly.
‘Are you coming down to breakfast?’ she asked as she ran down the stairs.
Was he supposed to follow at a snail’s pace?
‘Maria has promised to make pancakes today,’ she called back to him as she hurried across the hall towards the kitchen.
She looked so fresh-faced and innocent in her simple top, blue jeans and sneakers. ‘I’m going to check on the horses,’ he said, craving fresh air and the empty pampas.
‘No problems, I hope?’ she asked, pausing with her hand on the kitchen door.
Problems? What? More than she could see as he moved stiff-legged down the stairs? ‘One of the ponies kicked my best horse last night,’ he ground out.
‘Oh, no!’ she exclaimed with concern. ‘I’m so sorry. No lasting harm done, I hope?’
‘I don’t know yet,’ he snapped, frowning. Socialising was good for recovering horses, but there was always the risk they might get hurt, and he felt responsible for what had happened. It was another black mark on the day.
‘Perhaps I can see your horses later?’ she suggested.
Before he had a chance to refuse this request she had disappeared inside the kitchen. His black mood thickened when he heard her laughing with Maria. She was really making herself at home.
* * *
Thanking Diego’s housekeeper for the delicious breakfast, Maxie reflected on the many amusing tales Maria had told her about Diego growing up. It was probably just as well he hadn’t joined them in the kitchen, or Maria almost certainly wouldn’t have opened up the way she had. Maxie had been her usual guarded self. She never talked about her childhood, and preferred to look to the future and build rather than waste time thinking about what couldn’t be changed. She had spent too many nights barricaded in a room with her mother when her father had returned home drunk after yet another failed business deal to want to look back. Her own relationships with men had scarcely fared any better. She seemed to have the knack of finding younger versions of her father. No wonder creating events for other people suited her so well. She had long preferred to view the world from a safe distance.
She was scarcely back in her bedroom when her father called her on her mobile. ‘What a great surprise,’ she said, her face wreathed in smiles.
‘Don’t ring me now,’ he howled. ‘It isn’t convenient!’
‘But you called me,’ Maxie pointed out, all her elation evaporating.
‘Can’t you remember the simplest thing, Maxine?’ her father bellowed, as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘I have a board meeting at nine. I’ve got no time for your jabbering now!’
‘Dad, I’m sorry—’ But the line had already been disconnected. He was as confused as ever, she realised. Her father hadn’t attended a board meeting in his life, as far as Maxie knew, and he wasn’t about to start now.
She took a moment to compose herself, and then sniffed and straightened up. Checking her reflection in the mirror before she left the room, she remembered her father’s nursing staff telling her to get on with her life. They were probably right, but it had been so long since she had pleased herself, without making her responsibilities top of the list, she had almost forgotten how.
Or maybe not, Maxie thought. A faint smile touched her lips when she spotted something interesting in the courtyard. It wouldn’t hurt to take a closer look.
* * *
Diego had checked the horse and was satisfied the wound was superficial. Having returned to his room to take a shower, he was rubbing his hair dry when the messaging service on his phone trilled. It was a text from an anxious Holly, wanting to know what he thought of Maxie. Were his feelings supposed to have changed towards Maxie since Holly’s last call?
He texted back: She’s here. She’s fine. Doing her job, as far as I can tell.
Holly texted back immediately: Is that it?
That’s it, he confirmed, stowing the phone. What else should there be?
He was just easing his leg when he heard something that made him lurch across the room as fast as he could to stare out of the window. With a violent curse he left his bedroom in such a rush he forgot his cane. With his stiff leg lagging behind, he used the brute strength of his upper body to swing down the stairs, and, limping across the seemingly endless stretch of hallway, he launched himself at the front door and flung it wide. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
‘Oh, hello,’ Maxie replied, turning on the seat of his prized custom-built Harley. ‘I hope you don’t mind. I saw your bike and I couldn’t resist!’
She looked pretty hot on his bike…
And she was making no move to dismount.
She caressed the controls.
‘I hope you weren’t thinking of taking my bike for a ride?’ he derided, making what, without his cane, was embarrassingly slow progress down the steps.
‘I have ridden a bike before.’
‘Not like this, you haven’t,’ he fired back at her, cursing beneath his breath as he closed the distance between them at a limp.
‘I’m not a child, Diego…’
That much he could see for himself. And there wasn’t so much as a trace of guilt in her eyes. ‘Do you normally take things that don’t belong to you?’
‘I wasn’t taking it. I was sitting on it,’ she protested.
A flashback to his past fuelled his anger. He had first started riding bikes with a friend who was dead now. That thought led to the name Parrish banging in his head. ‘Don’t you dare,’ he warned as Maxie’s fingertips strayed dangerously close to the controls.
She had never done anything like this before. She had never rebelled or taken anything that didn’t belong to her without asking permission first. She had been all business, all correctness and restraint for so long she couldn’t imagine what she was doing.
‘Off,’ Diego commanded, in the coldest voice she had ever heard.
She could accept she was doing something wrong, but was it that bad? Something inside her flipped. ‘Okay, so you don’t want this wedding here. I get that. You don’t want me here. I get that too. But as your brother part-owns this island, and his fiancée has hired me to give an opinion, I’m going to stay until I’m in a position to do that.’
‘Then get back to work and get the hell off my bike!’
‘I’ve done my work,’ Maxie raged back. Springing off the bike, she took a stand. ‘For your information, I stayed up half the night to finish my work. Holly will have my report the second she wakes up. What have you done apart from feel sorry for yourself?’
Diego paled. ‘What did you say?’
‘Isn’t that what this is about?’ Maxie demanded as all the pent-up feelings she had suppressed for years burst out of her. ‘So you can’t play top-class polo? You can still ride a horse, can’t you? You’re still breathing!’
‘I should stop there, if I were you,’ Diego warned her quietly.
‘Why? Does the truth hurt, Diego? How long have you been on the island, exactly? Are you never going home? And if the pain’s so bad why don’t you take painkillers like everyone else?’
‘You’re really pushing it, lady…’
‘Am I?’ she said, standing her ground when he took a step towards her. ‘Perhaps it’s time someone did. Maybe I shouldn’t have sat on your bike—but for God’s sake, Diego, it’s only a bike. I was hardly going to roar away on it. Where would I go?’ she demanded angrily, staring around. ‘This was an island the last time I looked!’
‘Are you finished?’ he demanded, looking more ferocious than she’d ever seen him with his ruggedly beautiful head thrown back, earring glinting, black eyes blazing.
Absolutely, devastatingly, gorgeous…

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