‘Ah, but it does!’ Romero wheeled his chair to Arden’s side. ‘This young woman has a brain, Conor, and she’s not afraid to use it. When you can find me someone who is her equal in intelligence and in determination, we’ll discuss replacing her. Until then, Arden Miller stays at El Corazon.’
Conor stared at his uncle in silence, and then his gaze slipped to Arden.
‘Very well,’ he said coldly. ‘But it will be a short stay.’ He looked at Arden again, and she could see the anger once again held tautly in check in his eyes. ‘Perhaps, if we are both fortunate, our paths will not cross very often while she is here.’
Felix chuckled. ‘You will see her at dinner. Miss Miller dines at my table every evening.’
Conor’s eyes narrowed. ‘Does she, indeed?’ he said, his voice soft as silk.
Arden flushed. ‘It was your uncle’s idea, I assure you,’ she said coldly, ‘not mine.’
He smiled tightly. ‘And does she room in the servants’ quarters?’ he asked, his gaze locked on Arden’s face. ‘Somehow, I suspect not.’
‘She is not a servant, Conor. Surely even you can see that.’
‘I can see a great deal, Uncle,’ Conor answered without looking in Felix’s direction. ‘In fact, I suspect I see more than your Miss Miller wishes.’
‘You see only what you want to see,’ Arden said sharply. ‘Men like you always do.’
‘Men like me?’ Conor stabbed his hands into his trouser pockets and smiled coolly as he rocked back on his heels. ‘Bums, you mean. But I was under the impression you never gave them the time of day.’
‘I was referring to men whose bank accounts outweigh their morals, señor.’
‘How very ecumenical of you,’ he said, his voice like the purr of a great cat. ‘You don’t like men who are poor, and you don’t like men who are rich.’
‘I didn’t say—’
‘And yet you’ve taken a fancy to my uncle, who obviously is very wealthy.’ His lips drew back from his teeth in a cold smile. ‘How generous of you to make an exception in his case.’
‘You’re deliberately twisting my words!’
Conor moved forward slowly until they were only inches apart. ‘I must be,’ he said softly, so only she could hear. ‘Because we both know you have an affinity for men with money. They’ve always provided you with a source of income, haven’t they, sweetheart?’
Arden felt herself tremble with fury. How she hated this man! She wanted to slap his face, tell him what he could do with his insinuations and his lies, she wanted to turn on her heel, march out the door, and never look back.
But that was what he wanted her to do, and why should she? This job was hers—Felix had made that clear enough. Besides, if she quit it would mean another victory for Conor Martinez, another defeat for her—and she’d be damned if she’d let that happen again!
‘Think what you like,’ she said, just as softly. She forced a smile to her lips. ‘It’s Felix’s opinion that counts.’
She saw his eyes darken with anger but before he could say anything she swung away from him, went to Felix, and clasped the handles of his wheelchair.
‘Shall we go out and sit in the garden for a while?’ she said pleasantly.
‘An excellent idea, Miss Miller.’
Arden pushed the chair down the hall towards the sliding glass door that opened on to the garden. There was silence behind her, but she could feel Conor watching her. At the last moment, she turned back and looked at him. His eyes were fixed on her, a cold, green light that seemed to hold her transfixed.
A chill danced down Arden’s spine. For one wild moment, she wanted to change her mind, to race to her room and pack her things...
‘Well?’ Felix banged his cane on the floor. ‘What takes so long, Miss Miller? I want to go into my garden.’
Arden took a deep breath, turned her back on Conor, and pushed the chair out into the sunlight.
Just before seven, Arden came slowly down the stairs, her hand drifting over the polished beechwood banister. Sounds drifted from below: the clink of glasses, the light sound of a woman’s laughter set against the huskier counterpoint of a male voice, and she paused on the bottom step, listening not just with her ears but with her entire body, as a doe would when making her way through a forest where danger lurked in every shadow.
I don’t want to go down there!
The thought rang in her head as clearly as if she’d spoken the words aloud. Her hand tightened on the banister; she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.
She was being ridiculous! She wasn’t about to step into an arena filled with lions; she was a competent, capable woman and her adversary was only one insolent, egotistical male. There was no reason to have an attack of nerves because this would not be the usual quiet evening’s meal with Felix Romero.
‘Remember, Miss Miller, dinner will be at eight,’ Felix had said when his nurse had come to collect him. ‘Tonight, we will dress formally.’
Arden smoothed down the fabric of her ankle-length black silk skirt. With it, she wore a cream-coloured silk blouse, small gold earrings, and high-heeled sandals. It was as formal an outfit as she could manage. She suspected it would not stand up to whatever creation Linda would be wearing, but that didn’t bother her.
What bothered her, she thought as she made her way down the rest of the staircase and along the corridor, was that dressing this way made her feel terribly vulnerable, as if she were about to sneak into a party on the Hill when she was really supposed to be going there to pass trays of hors-d’oeuvres.
It was silly, but she’d have felt much better wearing one of her business suits, a pair of sensible pumps, and a man-tailored silk shirt. Then she’d have felt more like herself—and appropriately armoured for what she was sure was going to prove to be an unpleasant evening.
Conor was certainly not finished giving her a difficult time. Arden grimaced. The more she knew about the man, the more she disliked him. He was everything she’d suspected—and more, she thought grimly, remembering the things Felix had told her this afternoon.
‘This is a good place to sit,’ the old man had said when they’d reached a bank of multiflora roses in the garden. ‘Come, my dear. Sit on this bench and let me tell you about my devoted family.’
Arden, who’d heard enough to last her a lifetime, had shaken her head.
‘I’d rather you wouldn’t,’ she’d said quickly. ‘It’s none of my business.’
But Felix insisted. ‘My nephew made it your business,’ he growled. ‘Now come, sit down and let an old man talk.’
He talked for what seemed hours, telling a convoluted tale of investments and land acquisitions, all of them lusted after by avaricious relatives.
‘I always thought my stepdaughter the most greedy,’ he said. He leaned forward and put his gnarled hand on hers, ‘but my nephew—’
‘Conor?’
‘Yes. He is the worst. A few years ago, I fell ill. Conor stepped in and took over the running of El Corazon. Just until I was better, he said, and I, in a moment of weakness, agreed. But he has not really relinquished control from that day! He says it is for my good and for the good of El Corazon but he has always coveted this finca and I would not put it past him to do anything he can to get it.’
Arden’s eyes widened. ‘Are you saying he’s trying to steal it from you, señor?’
The old man had shaken his head. ‘Why should he steal when he has only to wait and inherit?’ He had leaned closer and chuckled softly. ‘At least, that is what he thinks.’
Now, standing at the foot of the steps, Arden thought what a pleasure it would be to walk into the library, smile at the man who’d accused her of being a fraud and a cheat, and tell him to his handsome face that she suspected his devotion to his uncle wasn’t simply the result of familial concern.
A hand fell lightly on her shoulder. ‘Good evening, Miss Miller.’
Arden looked up, startled. Conor had come up behind her as sile
ntly as a cat.
‘Señor Martinez. I didn’t—I thought you were in the library...’
Why was she stammering like a schoolgirl? He’d surprised her, that was all. It was disconcerting to turn around and find him standing there.
Arden’s throat constricted. Why did he have to be so damned handsome? Villains ought to look like villains, not like—like movie stars. At the very least, Conor should have looked more like Edgar Lithgow, with beady eyes, mottled skin, and a patch of shiny scalp peeping from beneath a swath of thin hair. There was no reason in the world for his eyes to be that incredible shade of green, for his lashes to be so dark they’d be the envy of any woman, for his hair to be so thick and lustrous and to curl like black silk against the collar of a black dinner suit that looked as if it had been custom tailored to fit those broad shoulders, flat stomach, and long legs...
‘Do I pass muster?’
Her eyes flew to his face. He was smiling in a way that sent a flood of crimson racing under her skin. Damn him, she thought, and her chin came up in defiance.
‘I was wondering,’ she said coldly, ‘what lucky soul it was who had the joy of breaking your nose.’
He threw back his head and laughed. ‘You’d like to have done that yourself, I’ll bet.’
She gave him a bright, fraudulent smile. ‘How ever did you guess?’
Conor chuckled. ‘Well, a guy beat you to it.’
‘Defending a lady’s honour, no doubt.’
‘We had a difference of opinion.’
‘Really.’ She smiled coldly. ‘I didn’t think that sort of thing happened very often between gentlemen.’
He smiled. ‘Gentlemen don’t generally work on banana boats.’
‘You? On a banana boat?’ Arden’s brows lifted. ‘Next you’ll expect me to believe in the Easter bunny.’
‘I did a lot of things that might surprise you, in my chequered past.’
‘Ah,’ she said sweetly, ‘I understand. You’re one of those who likes to go slumming.’
‘I was one of those who liked to eat,’ he said with no smile at all. ‘Working banana boats may be the only job you can get when you’re eighteen years old.’
‘What’s the matter? Did your father cut off your allowance one summer?’
Conor’s mouth narrowed. ‘Felix cut it off,’ he said.
Arden’s smile faded. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘You don’t have to.’ His smile returned, although there was a tightness to it. ‘I wanted to talk to you,’ he said. ‘I was going to come to your room, but—’
‘But you knew I’d slam the door in your face if you did. Yes, that was good thinking.’
‘Actually, I was running late. But when I heard you leave your room, I—’
‘Actually,’ she said, her voice echoing his, ‘I don’t know why you’d come to my room, Senor Martinez. We have absolutely nothing to say to each other.’
‘That’s just the point, Miss Miller. I think we do.’
‘You think wrong. And now, I believe your uncle said dinner would be served at—’
‘Dinner can wait.’
Arden smiled coldly. ‘Ah. Spoken like the true Master of El Corazon.’
‘I take it that remark is supposed to have some deep meaning?’
‘Only that I think your uncle made things very clear this afternoon, señor. You are not in charge here. He is.’
Conor’s brows crooked. ‘Which, you assume, puts you at an advantage.’
‘It means that I can keep my job.’
‘Until I find a suitable replacement.’
She looked at him. ‘If you find a suitable replacement,’ she said with a thin smile.
He laughed softly. ‘You’re very sure of yourself, Arden, aren’t you?’
‘About some things, yes.’
‘There’s no need to sound so defensive. Self-assurance is an admirable quality. I’m just not accustomed to finding it in a woman who looks the way you do.’
‘And I’m not accustomed to being insulted!’
She turned sharply and started down the hall again, but he caught up to her when she was halfway there and clasped her shoulder.
‘Dammit, will you stop playing the wounded innocent?’
‘Let go of me!’
‘Not until we’ve talked.’
‘We’ve got nothing to say to each other, Senor Martinez. We—hey. Hey! What do you think you’re doing?’
She struggled fiercely as he pushed her into the darkened drawing-room, but there was no way she could combat his strength. He slammed the door, caught both her wrists in one hand, and pressed her back against the wall.
‘The first thing you’re going to learn,’ he said grimly, ‘is that when I tell you something, I expect you to listen.’
‘You’re a damned bully!’
‘Careful,’ he said softly. ‘You don’t really want to get into name-calling, do you?’
‘I know what you are, Conor Martinez. You’re trying to take over your uncle’s estate. You can’t wait for him to die, you want it all now!’
Conor laughed. ‘Is that what he told you?’
‘I don’t hear you denying it.’
‘What’s the problem, Arden? Does it upset you to think someone else got to Uncle Felix first?’
‘The problem,’ Arden said, ‘is that I don’t know how I’m going to be able to live under the same roof with a man like you!’
Conor laughed again, but there was a different sound to it this time.
‘Don’t you?’
‘No.’ Arden squirmed against his grasp. ‘You’re despicable! Let me go, damn you!’
‘I will.’ He shifted his weight and his body brushed lightly against hers. An electric tingle seemed to dance along her skin. ‘Just as soon as we get a few things sorted out.’
‘Such as?’
‘While you’re living in this house, you’ll treat me with respect.’
‘You don’t deserve any.’
‘And that we keep our squabbling to a minimum.’
‘You might as well ask for the moon!’
Conor caught her face in his hand and held it fast. ‘Listen to me, dammit,’ he said gruffly. ‘My uncle’s health is precarious. I won’t have it made worse by a little bitch like you—’
‘Me? Me? I’m not the one who made a scene this afternoon, I’m not the one who—’
‘You and I will do our best to be civil to each other in Felix’s presence.’
‘Your concern for his health is touching,’ Arden said bitterly. Why didn’t he let go of her? His fingers were clasping her jaw; she could feel the calloused press of them against the softness of her skin. She could feel the warmth of his body, smell his scent...
‘It won’t be easy,’ he said, ‘but hell, you’re a talented girl, Arden. You’ll manage to carry it off.’
‘Listen to me, señor—’
‘My name is Conor.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going to call you—’
‘I am Conor, and you are Arden.’ He moved closer, so that he was almost leaning against her. ‘And we are going to be the epitome of civility whenever Felix is around.’
‘I understand now,’ Arden said bitterly. ‘You’ve thought things over and it’s occurred to you that it’s probably unwise to treat me badly if you want to stay on your uncle’s good side.’
‘Don’t be a fool!’
‘It’s true, isn’t it?’
Conor shrugged. ‘Think whatever you like.’
Arden gritted her teeth. ‘Don’t talk to me that way, dammit!’
‘What way?’
‘As if—as if I were a naive child. I don’t like it.’
‘You’re right.’ Conor’s hand slipped to her throat and encircled it lightly. Arden felt her pulse leap towards his palm. ‘You’re hardly naive. And you’re certainly not a child.’
She knew, in that instant, what he was going to do. She tried to turn away from him, but it was too late. His mo
uth was on hers, harsh and demanding; his hand, and the weight of him as he leaned towards her, held her fast.
Don’t, she said, or perhaps she only thought it, for suddenly she felt a jolt of electricity race through her blood and explode in a wave of desire. She shuddered, murmured something incomprehensible, and her mouth opened beneath his.
‘Arden,’ he whispered, and at the sound of her name she moaned, her arms lifted and encircled his neck...
And it was over. His hands closed around her wrists and he stepped back. They stared at each other and, for the space of a heartbeat, his eyes were as dark and puzzled as she knew hers must be.
Arden dragged air into her lungs. ‘Conor?’ she said, her voice tiny and baffled.
His mouth twisted, and he wiped the back of his hand across it in a gesture of complete contempt.
‘Damn you to hell,’ he snarled.
He spun away, wrenched open the door, and left her standing alone in the darkness.
CHAPTER SIX
ARDEN yanked back the shower curtain, stepped into the tub, and turned the water on full blast. Closing her eyes, she turned her face up to the spray and reminded herself, for what seemed like the thousandth time since the night Conor had kissed her, that she was not going to let him force her to quit her job and leave El Corazon.
That was why he’d kissed her, she thought grimly as she worked a handful of shampoo into her hair. When ordering her to leave hadn’t worked, he’d turned to the lowest kind of intimidation, the sort his kind bad used throughout history to put women in their place.
Arden tilted her head back and let the water sluice the suds from her hair. Well, it wasn’t going to work! The bastard had caught her off guard, which was why she hadn’t slapped his face, but he’d damned well better not try it again. If he so much as touched her, she’d jam her knee into that part of his anatomy where it would do the most good. Growing up in Greenfield had taught her something, by God!
At least she hadn’t had to deal with him the past week. Conor had left the house early each morning, before anyone was up, and come back late, long after dinner was finished.
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