Sitting bolt upright on the bed, she stared up stubbornly at the damp patches on the ceiling to make a vow that Isla Del Rey would never become another of Don Xavier’s flashy hotel schemes. She would fight on, as Doña Anna had done all her life. ‘Whatever it takes,’ the old lady used to say, ‘we must keep the island authentic, Rosie.’ And if Rosie had to keep Don Xavier in a headlock until he backed off, she’d somehow find the strength to do it.
* * *
She was gone so long he decided to go upstairs to choose a bedroom.
Preferably one with Señorita Clifton in it—
He killed that thought stone dead. He could afford no distractions. The work here couldn’t wait. He’d brought an overnight bag, guessing his inspection might take some time—
‘Señorita Clifton!’ He had almost barged into her as she came bowling out of her room. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked, steadying her. He could feel her tension as well as her fire beneath his hands. Her eyes were black with passion as she stared up at him.
‘Don Xavier!’ she flashed as if riding the crest of a wave of anger.
‘What’s eating you?’ he said.
‘Your plans to wreck the island, if you must know,’ she flared.
Too many hormones; too few avenues for them to escape, he concluded as he huffed a short laugh. ‘You obviously know more about my plans than I do.’
‘So you deny that you’re going to level the land and build another of your hotel schemes on the island?’
Her breasts were rising and falling rapidly as she sucked in air. She was a wild little animal, he thought as he stared down into her impassioned face. Curled up close in her burrow most of the time, she was a tigress when she set herself free.
‘Nothing is decided yet, so may I suggest you calm down?’
‘Don’t patronise me. Calm down?’ she derided. ‘You’d better let me go,’ she warned.
Yes. He better had. He’d been hanging on to her all this time, and she hadn’t exactly been fighting him off.
‘I know you must be upset by what I’ve shown you today,’ he said, trying for a reasoned tone, ‘but I have a duty to point out the dangers when you’re living in the house.’
Her eyes filled with tears. He didn’t know what was worse, seeing her angry, or seeing her miserable.
Proud to the last, she whipped her face away from his.
‘You’ve nothing to worry about,’ he said, somehow overcome by a sense of how alone she was. It had to be because he was back in the old house, he reasoned as he continued to reassure her. ‘I’ll stay on until I’ve made a full inventory of the remedial work that needs to be done here.’
‘What?’ She turned a shocked face on his.
‘You must have expected me to stay the night?’
‘Actually, no.’ Her stare was levelled on his. ‘I’m surprised you’re prepared to risk the danger.’
He tried so hard not to smile. ‘I think I’m equal to the dangers here, Señorita Clifton.’
She stared at him defiantly as she braced her angry fists against his chest.
Lifting his hands, he let her go.
It took her a moment, but she was right back in the game within a couple of heartbeats. ‘Of course you must stay the night,’ she told him in a pleasant tone. ‘This is as much your house as mine.’
He inclined his head, wondering how long her warmth would remain imprinted on his hands. The memory of that small, soft body straining against his would stay with him for a long time.
He took the torture like a man. ‘There are six or seven bedrooms, as I recall,’ he observed in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘Which means I can sleep at one end of the house, while you sleep at the other.’
‘You won’t trouble me,’ she assured him.
He disagreed. He imagined that even with their doors locked and bolted, and at opposite ends of the house, they would trouble each other all through the night.
‘I’ll be right back with some clean linen for you,’ she offered, hurrying away.
* * *
She could feel the heat of Xavier’s stare on her back, and the moment she was out of sight she leaned back against the wall to grab some down time from the tension. What was happening to her? He was like a magnet drawing her into danger, and she had no more sense than to go with it. Worse, she didn’t want to fend him off. His touch was light and unthreatening—she could still feel it on her arm. Closing her eyes, she enjoyed the sensation for a moment, but that only made her want more.
Her feelings were all over the place. She should hate him for what he represented, and for the danger he posed to the island with his schemes, but while hungry fire was surging through her veins that wasn’t easy. And now he was going to stay the night. It was too intimate, too disturbing in every way. She would have preferred to keep him at arm’s length—preferably with an arm as long as a continent.
Opening the door, she rifled through the linen closet, choosing the best of a bad lot in a pile of threadbare sheets. But at least they were clean and smelled of sunshine, she reassured herself, bringing the bedding to her face as she walked down the corridor. She could hear Don Xavier banging about in one of the rooms. She stopped outside the door, drew a deep breath, and then knocked politely.
‘Come...’
His imperious tone made her blood boil. She was being hospitable, while he was treating her like a...like a housekeeper, Rosie thought, fighting back a laugh. That was exactly what she was—or what she had been. The humour in the situation soon restored her high spirits. Entering the room, she took in everything at a glance: his expensive leather bag and the crisp clean clothes arranged neatly on the bed...
And him.
So much him her heart was thundering like a jackhammer. Even now she couldn’t get used to the sight of so much man.
‘Señorita Clifton?’
Adopting a polite, yet remote expression, she laid the folded sheets on the bed.
‘My apologies, señorita, I will move these things away, and then you can make up the bed for me.’
Judging by his raised brow, her jaw must have dropped to the floor.
‘Do you have a problem with that?’ he asked with surprise.
Yes. She did. She was going to start as she meant to go on. He had two hands just as she did. Even a little thing like making up his bed could give Don Xavier the wrong idea. As far as this inheritance went, they were equals. If she gave him the impression that nothing had changed and gave in to his every whim, how was she supposed to stand up against his plans for the island?
‘You’d make the bed for a friend, or for a welcome visitor, wouldn’t you?’ he probed, identifying the problem right away.
‘Gladly,’ Rosie admitted, ‘but as you have yet to prove that you’re either of those things...’
His laugh cut her off. ‘You’re a source of constant amusement to me,’ he admitted. ‘I never know what to expect from you next.’
‘Goodnight?’ she suggested. Turning on her heels, she headed for the door.
‘We’ll continue our tour at six o’clock sharp.’
‘It’s barely light then—’
‘It’s light enough,’ he ruled. ‘I have many other things to do. I’m a very busy man, señorita. I can’t hang around here for ever.’
Thank goodness.
‘Goodnight,’ he said.
As his firm mouth tugged in the suspicion of a smile, she shrugged. She’d been dismissed, Rosie gathered. She was careful to close the door behind her with barely a click, when the urge to slam it in Don Xavier’s mocking face was overwhelming.
* * *
He was up well before dawn the next morning. He hadn’t slept. He hoped Señorita Clifton had enjoyed a similarly disturbed night. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, furious to have her intrude on his thoughts first thing. All night, he conceded. She had been in his head all night.
If things had been different between them, their differences could have been settled in bed, but that wasn�
��t an option with Rosie Clifton, who was so obviously enjoying giving him the runaround. She was testing her female power; something new to her, he suspected. When they’d first met she was uncertain, yet controlled, but now those amethyst eyes flashed fire at him on a regular basis. He liked that. He liked her. She was as fiercely determined as he was to see her plans through. She would make a worthy opponent in any dispute, which would make the pleasure, when she finally admitted defeat and accepted a settlement for her half of the island, all the sweeter. It would certainly please him to escape the parent trap his aunt had laid.
* * *
Okay. Stay cool, Rosie directed herself as Don Xavier came out of the house. If he’d been stunning in those cut-off shorts, he looked even better in banged-up denim that fitted snugly on his hips and, um, lower body...desert boots, and a close-fitting top that hinted at the muscular torso her memory could so readily supply. His inky-black hair was thick and tousled. His stubble was dense and sharp. He was dark and powerful, threatening and sexy in an immediate and very potent way. He looked as if someone had lit his blue touch paper this morning. But would she have the sense to stand back from the explosion?
‘Good morning,’ he called out.
Even his voice was virile.
‘Good morning!’ she responded brightly with what she hoped he would accept was an innocent smile. Did he remember how it felt to accidentally touch each other, or to hold her as he steadied her on her feet? Did he remember those glances between them that had held for several dangerous beats too long? Had he tossed and turned all night as she had? She could only hope—
‘Ready for the tour?’ he demanded, striding up to her.
‘Absolutely,’ she confirmed briskly. ‘Shall we go?’
‘Lead the way.’
As he drew alongside, her gaze brushed appreciatively over him again; once was never enough. It would have been so much safer to share her inheritance with a wizened old man, or even a pipe-and-slippers man, rather than this wild-haired brigand, who managed to look even more disreputable this morning than he had when he strode out of the sea. She wished she’d tried a little harder with her own appearance, but lack of sleep and determination not to be late for the tour had led to her grabbing the first thing that came to hand, which happened to be an ancient top and even older shorts.
This isn’t a fashion show, Rosie reminded herself, but just the start of some cold-blooded negotiations.
Really? Then, why was it so hard to concentrate?
Because she kept thinking back to Don Xavier taking his shower this morning. She’d been making coffee in the kitchen just a few feet below him when she heard the water running. She’d stilled, picturing him naked, his swarthy face turned up to the spray, eyes closed as he raked back his thick black hair. And then his lean, tanned hands moved on...slowly, down the length of his body, only pausing to map his iron buttocks, and a few other interesting landmarks on the way—
‘Señorita Clifton?’
‘I’m sorry...did I miss something?’
Blinking the erotic daydream away, she stared up into Xavier’s shockingly handsome face. That didn’t help her concentration either. ‘Did you find the coffee I left on the stove?’
He frowned. ‘I did. Thank you.’
‘Good.’ She was reluctant to leave those images in the shower behind, especially when he’d starred in her erotic fantasies all night.
‘Is something wrong?’ he asked when she bit her lip and frowned.
Only that it was time for her to get real. Don Xavier had only shown an interest in Rosie and the island when Doña Anna had given him no option.
‘Nothing,’ she said, knowing she must concentrate on the task in hand with a brain that had turned to mush from lack of sleep.
‘I’d like to start with the path down to the beach.’
Xavier shot everything into sharp focus with just those few words. The path was narrow, and dangerously steep. There were loose rocks and shale where you could slip.
‘This looks dangerous,’ he said when they reached the top of the path.
If only he could see the island through her eyes—
‘Hang on to me,’ he insisted, offering her a steadying hand.
‘It’s fine. I go down here every day,’ she said blithely, ignoring his help.
‘If you come down here on your own, and you fall, you could lie here for hours,’ he said. ‘There should be a handrail, at least—’
She took big, reckless steps, just to prove a point.
‘Wait!’ he commanded, catching up with her. ‘I don’t want to be clearing up your mess if you fall onto the rocks.’
‘I don’t imagine you do,’ she yelled back, slithering on regardless. ‘How would that look in court?’
And then, somehow, he got in front of her. If she’d taken chances descending, he’d taken more. ‘Take my hand,’ he insisted coldly.
She ground her jaw and did as he asked. He showed no sign of moving otherwise. There was nothing cold about his hand; his grip was warm and firm, and left her breathless with mounting excitement. Until she remembered where they were and who he was.
‘Watch where you put your feet,’ he rapped.
Keeping them out of her mouth was her biggest problem.
‘Tired already?’ he demanded when she stopped halfway down.
‘No. I’m admiring the view,’ she said, refusing to make eye contact with a man who made her feel all sorts of unwanted things.
‘You must have been impressed when you saw the coastline for the first time?’ he observed in the most relaxed piece of conversation they’d shared.
‘Seeing the beauty of the island after the city?’ she said, feeling she should respond. ‘You’ve got no idea.’
‘I have some,’ he argued, staring out to sea. ‘I’m seeing things all over again.’
Thanks to her? Rosie wondered, watching the breeze ruffle Xavier’s hair. No. She didn’t flatter herself to that extent. Still, at least they were relaxing a little with each other, and that couldn’t be a bad thing. ‘After living in the orphanage, coming here was like visiting heaven on a day pass,’ she admitted. ‘I was startled by the island’s beauty. Everywhere I turned, the vistas, the wide-open spaces, the freedom...’ She stretched out her arms as if she could touch it. ‘I couldn’t see a single flaw—’
‘And now?’ he asked.
Her smile died. She hadn’t seen a single flaw on the island until Xavier arrived.
‘There really needs to be a proper handrail here,’ he said as she continued her descent.
‘There’s no money for a handrail, not even for a rope.’ She remembered how she’d begged Doña Anna to have something put in place, so the old lady could reach her beloved beach in safety. She could have kicked herself now, for not realising there was so little money in the pot. And guilty that she’d been given a wage at all, when that money would have been better spent on repairs.
‘Did my aunt come down this path?’ Xavier asked, frowning.
‘Oh, yes,’ Rosie confirmed, smiling as she remembered. ‘She used to say she could slide down on her bottom, and climb up again on her hands and knees. “What’s wrong with that, missy?” she would ask me. Or, “Do you think I’m too old for that?”’
‘And what did you say?’ Xavier flashed her a look of genuine interest.
‘I gave the expected reply, of course,’ Rosie admitted wryly. ‘I’d tell her that she certainly wasn’t too old. But if I dared to venture an opinion—something like, “I just think—” she would cut me off mercilessly. “Don’t think,” she’d snap. “It’s my job to think. Not yours.”’
Xavier laughed. ‘I guess we’ve both felt the sharp edge of her tongue.’
‘I never took offence,’ Rosie explained, enjoying the new warmth between them in spite of her wariness regarding Xavier’s intentions towards the island. ‘I just accepted that, however close we were, when it came to the Isla Del Rey, there was never any doubt that Doña Anna was in charge.�
�
And always had been until she died, but now the future of the island was up for grabs.
CHAPTER SIX
HE WAS DISAPPOINTED. Not because the island held any surprises for him, but because he hadn’t expected it to be quite so run-down. The state of everything stirred his nagging sense of guilt. He should have come back long before now. He should have overruled his aunt and done everything he could to make her more comfortable, and see the island thrive. He’d always been too busy, and she’d been adamant that he must remain so. And now he knew why. She hadn’t wanted him to see that she’d lost her grip.
‘The house has always been shabby,’ he admitted when he and Rosie reached the beach. Why he felt the need to reassure her, he had no idea. ‘Not that a bit of peeling paint would have mattered to me when I was a boy—I doubt I even noticed it.’
Slipping off her sandals, Rosie started to paddle in the surf. She looked so young and so appealing it was hard to remember that she was just another hurdle in his way.
‘You must have been glad of a home to come to, after school,’ she remarked, kicking the water so the spray caught the light.
‘Doña Anna always made me welcome,’ he agreed.
‘And your parents?’
She had her back to him as she asked the question. She must have heard the rumours like everyone else. What Doña Anna hadn’t told her, the islanders would have supplied. ‘Best not mention them,’ he said.
She turned to look at him and her mouth slanted attractively as she admitted, ‘I have the same problem.’
He huffed a wry smile, but a spike of guilt stabbed him when he thought how much worse her childhood had been than his.
‘So, what did you do on the island?’ she asked, maybe trying to smooth over the awkward moment.
‘I made a raft once out of driftwood just like this. Sadly, it disintegrated once I got out to sea.’
‘Well, at least you didn’t drown.’ She laughed.
‘Almost.’
A Diamond for Del Rio's Housekeeper Page 5