Winning the Heiress' Heart

by Susanne Bellamy

  Her green-eyed gaze flashed with fire, putting him in mind of a lioness protecting her cub. “What are you suggesting I do? Let him take flying lessons?”

  “I wouldn’t presume to tell you what to do. Just don’t hold the reins too tightly. Teenage boys need space to grow into young men.” And the chance to make their own mistakes and work out who they are. He’d plant the seed of the idea for now and offer to help if she wanted it.

  Slowly she nodded. “I remember how it was with Harry. Tell him not to do something and for sure it was the one thing he would do.”

  Luc’s respect for Eva grew. Taking on responsibility for her teenage nephew was a huge commitment, as was moving them both to a foreign country. A simple offer would ease her concern about her nephew. “How can I help? You want me to give Seb the same training I give the boys in the plantation programme?”

  Her body stilled and her gaze settled on him. In her eyes he discerned a yearning to give her nephew the best she could. Right now, it seemed the most important thing in the world to help her achieve that peace of mind. And give him a reason to see more of her? He wouldn’t mind that either.

  In fact, he planned to see a whole lot more of Eva Abbott, nephew or not.

  Even across the intervening yards between their chairs, her tension was palpable. “Would you consider taking him on?”

  “I don’t see why not. Soon, I’ll have a great deal more work with tour groups visiting and if Seb trains up well, he could work permanently for me.”

  “That’s very kind of you, but I hope with the training you give, he’ll learn enough to take over the running of our plantation before too long.”

  “Your plantation? You plan to buy property here?”

  “I already own a place. I signed the deed for this plantation yesterday.”

  Chapter Two

  The room blurred and Luc’s blood rushed through his veins with an insistent pounding so loud it blocked all other sound.

  Eva had bought Benson’s plantation?

  Heiress tenant. Annie’s words leached into his brain. Heiress. Finally it dawned on him that she wasn’t just renting the house but had bought the whole damned lot. Benson had been stringing him along and never intended for him to have the place. How deep must the old man’s desire for revenge go if, after all this time, he couldn’t bear for a Martineau to purchase even the fields? Maybe Benson had lost the woman he loved to Luc’s father, but that had been over thirty years ago.

  For the life of him Luc couldn’t put two words together to ask Eva if the contract had been finalized, couldn’t think for the crashing of his dreams in this room of lost hopes and desires. First Genevieve had dumped him in this room, now Eva had sealed his fate. Without the second plantation there’d be no Tourism Board contract, no tourists, and no money to expand his program for the boys.

  “Luc? Are you unwell? Shall I pour you some water?”

  Why had she come along when he was so close to signing the contract? His offer had been generous and he’d been sure he could convince Benson to sell to him. In spite of Genevieve. And his mother. He drew a deep breath and met Eva’s concerned gaze.

  “I’ll be in touch tomorrow. I—good night, Eva.” Abruptly, he stood, placed his glass on the table and walked out.

  Benson’s plantation was never going to be his.

  ***

  Eva stood on the verandah and watched the pale ghost of Luc’s retreating back until he turned onto the track and she lost sight of him. With a sigh, she sat on the swinging seat and crossed her legs, pushing just enough to set up a gentle rocking motion. What had she said to upset him? His face had paled when she’d mentioned purchasing this place.

  “How odd. Now why should that information concern him?” And why was she talking to herself?

  She balanced her elbow on the back of the swing seat and cradled her cheek in her palm. Really, the whole meeting hadn’t gone at all as planned. For a start, Luc Martineau was darkly handsome and much younger than she’d expected.

  And she’d fallen into his arms and made that stupid comment.

  Cringing at the memory, she instead called to mind those moments in his arms. Strong arms, saving her from a bad fall and holding her longer than necessary. She saw again his chiseled features, felt the rasp of stubble on his square jaw as clearly as if he still held her against his muscled chest. His dark gaze had warmed as his strong hands wrapped around her bare legs and came tantalizingly close to her breast. Dear God, she shouldn’t have enjoyed the feel of a stranger’s hands on her bare skin.

  Heat suffused her cheeks. Even now, her skin tingled at the thought of his hard body pressed against hers and her stomach fluttered and flipped. Handsome as sin, Luc Martineau appealed on every level.

  Unsettled, she tried to tell herself it was no more than a natural physical response to a handsome man. She couldn’t afford to get involved with anyone. Not when Seb’s future was tied into building up this plantation. Which brought her right back to Luc’s odd reaction.

  She needed more information about him.

  An engine revved loudly on the track below and a single headlight flashed through the palms lining the driveway. A rider gunned the motorbike out of the final curve and screeched to a halt in a spray of gravel at the bottom of the steps. He switched off the engine and sat straddling the bike and grinning up at her.

  “Seb! What in heaven’s name are you doing on that thing?”

  “She’s a beauty, isn’t she? Needs some body work, but it’s the same as Marlon Brando rode in that film we saw in New Orleans.”

  “What—?”

  “You know, Evie. The Wild One. We saw it at the movie house when—”

  Control spun away as she contemplated Seb’s latest recklessness. How was she to deal with a teenage boy bent on seeking out and engaging in the most dangerous activities? “I don’t care what Mr. Brando rode. What are you doing on that bike?”

  He kicked a leg over the seat and stood. Shoulders hunched, his mouth tightened and he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “I bought it. Or at least I promised the owner I’d get the money to him by the end of the week.”

  Belligerent as James Dean and as rebellious as Harry. What can I do?

  “Come on, Evie. I need something to get around on. It’s loads cheaper than a car, and I can take you for a ride.”

  “Where do you expect me to sit? On the fuel tank? There’s no pillion seat. No, Seb, you won’t be getting me to ride that—that machine and neither should you.”

  “C’mon, Evie. You said you want me to learn from some old geezer. If I’ve got the bike I can get to work by myself. You won’t have to drive me around.”

  Her anger and annoyance ebbed as Seb twisted her around his little finger. She was such a pushover where he was concerned but motorbikes were so dangerous. “I don’t mind driving you. I’ve just got to get used to the mad road rules here. Whoever thought driving on the right side of the road would be so challenging?”

  Seb grinned at her, bounded up the steps and grabbed her hand. “I can help you. It’s easy. Just let me get the bike, please? There’s more than enough in my trust fund to pay for it.”

  “I don’t think your father would have agreed.”

  “Dad would have been on that bike and off for a ride like a shot.”

  Unavoidably true. Phillip would have loved the rush of speed on land almost as much as he loved flying. How could she keep her nephew safe and still allow him to be his father’s son?

  Seb raised his free hand to her shoulder and looked her in the eye. “Look, I promise I’ll be careful and I won’t miss a day with the old man.”

  “Teenage boys need space to grow.”

  But it was so dangerous.

  “Compromise. It’s much better than butting your head against a brick wall.”

  She drew a shaky breath and swallowed. “We’ll see. And Mr. Martineau isn’t old. He’s quite handsome—er, young, in fact. And he’s training other young men like you so yo
u see, you’ll be able to make friends quickly.”

  Seb grunted and sidled past her. “What’s for dinner? I’m starving.”

  Laughter bubbled up at the familiar teen complaint. “Typical teenager. You’re always hungry, Seb.”

  “I’m a man and I need feeding.” His voice cracked on the last word, somewhat spoiling the effect of his deepening tone. He was a man, or nearly so. Eva knew she had to remember that.

  Laughing, she pushed him toward the door. “Dinner. Ten minutes. Go and change.”

  She leaned against the post at the top of the steps and peered into the darkness. The track Luc had taken was hidden by night, which fell swiftly in Hawaii, unlike the long twilight in England. Would she ever get used to it?

  From deep within the palm grove, three notes of birdcall trilled and were carried away on the breeze.

  Face raised to the night sky, Eva inhaled deeply. Unfamiliar perfumes twined with the scent of white ginger growing beside the veranda. The garden at Bellerose had always been her refuge.

  A garden. She’d start with plumeria and that red hibiscus.

  Hope and optimism flowed with her plans and the exotic perfume.

  It was all so different from Bellerose, but maybe she could make it work. She had to make it work. For both their sakes.

  Chapter Three

  Luc cradled the hand piece of the phone between his shoulder and ear. Frustration grew with each ring as he folded a slip of paper and tucked it into his wallet. “Come on, Jack. Pick up the damned phone.”

  “Lyons Realtors. Jack Lyons here.” Brisk and businesslike, finally his best friend answered.

  “Is Benson’s sale final or do I have time to negotiate with Eva Abbott?”

  “Hello, Luc. I’m fine. You?”

  Luc ran his free hand through his hair and leaned against the door frame. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I’m having a conversation. People do, you know, at least, normal people do. You, on the other hand, are a demanding son of a—”

  “Sorry. Look, I’m just a bit—”

  “Yeah, you are. Hey, sorry about the deal falling through. I tried to get hold of you at your hotel.”

  “Annie told me.”

  “I know what that place means to you, buddy, and I tried to tip it your way, but I got this feeling Benson was looking for any buyer but you.”

  “Losing this deal will set my community program back.”

  “It won’t be great for the Tourism Board application either. I could have a word with our lovely new owner and try to negotiate something if you like.”

  “Look, I just want to find out if Miss Abbott’s sale is—”

  “Did our lovely heiress give you the brush-off? Is that why you’re grumpier than usual this morning?

  “Are you nuts? I’ve got more to worry about than a woman.” Luc loved Jack like a brother but sometimes his friend really pissed him off.

  “Can’t you stand the competition? Anyway, I think she likes me. I rather fancy marrying into money. You can be my best man if you pay up on our bet.”

  Luc stiffened. “Have you no respect? She’s in mourning, Jack. Give her space and give that competitive nature of yours a rest. Besides, vulnerable women aren’t your style and she’s no good-time girl.”

  “I knew it. Damn, I thought I’d have time this morning to smooth my way into her good books but you slipped up there last night and played your concerned citizen card, didn’t you?”

  “Will you stop being an ass for just one minute? The only man she wants right now is her nephew. I offered to train him, same as the other boys. Got it? Now, is the sale final?”

  “None of your damned business.” Tap, tap, tap.

  Luc heard Jack’s trademark pencil hitting the desktop, followed by his heavy expulsion of breath.

  “Of course it’s final. Why else would she have moved into the place already? Damn it, I tried to contact you at the conference hotel to up your offer to Benson but you never returned my calls.”

  Luc’s stomach clenched. It was only what he’d expected, but hope had reared its two-faced head. He’d deluded himself because he wanted the property so badly; it wasn’t Jack’s fault. “All those boxes looked like a permanent move. I owe you one.”

  “You owe me a single malt. Tell you what, if you convince our heiress to sell to you, I’ll buy you two bottles.”

  “Right, like that will happen. Thanks for trying.” Luc breathed out an exasperated sigh as he replaced the receiver. It had been worth a shot. He picked up his hat and keys and walked out to the Jeep. No closer to a solution, he started the engine.

  What was the right approach to use with Eva to entice her to sell?

  Money motivated most women but according to Jack and Annie, Eva was an heiress. Diamonds and dresses and travel were probably the stuff of everyday life for her. His lip curled as an image of his mother on the arm of her new beau ghosted through his memory. Bedazzled by wealth beyond her wildest dreams, his Louisiana mother had walked out with her oil-rich Texan without a backward glance. Fur coats and monstrous Cadillacs were more important than family. Just like Genevieve Benson. Heartless. The only heart women like them needed was made of solitaire carats.

  Despite her outward appearance, Eva Abbott would be the same. How many carats would it take to convince her to sell the plantation to him? And if not money, what else did he have to bargain with?

  ***

  Luc swung the wheel of the Jeep around the last bend of Eva Abbott’s driveway and pulled up next to a motorbike in need of panel work. A young man, auburn hair flopping in his eyes, squatted beside the machine at the bottom of the steps. Luc strolled over and examined the bike. “That’s a 1950 6T Triumph Thunderbird. Hard to come by in the islands.”

  “Yeah, and I’ve got to convince Evie to let me keep it.”

  Luc held out his hand. “I’m Luc Martineau. You must be Seb.”

  The young man wiped his hand on an oily rag before shaking hands. “Do you know anything about bikes?”

  “A bit. What’s the problem?” He hunkered down beside Seb and ran a hand across the dented gas tank. “This doesn’t look too bad. I know somewhere you can work on this, tools included.”

  Excitement lit the teen’s face. “Where? Evie might let me keep the bike if I can do the work myself. She’s all for being self-sufficient and independent.”

  The observation fit oddly with Luc’s image of an heiress, and he filed it away. “I’ve a well-stocked machinery shed on my plantation. After you’ve finished work for the day, you’re welcome to make use of the tools.”

  “You’re my boss? I thought Evie said you were old. At least”—the teenager shuffled his feet, color burning up his fair cheeks—“I mean, you don’t look that old.”

  “I’m not quite decrepit, if that’s what you mean, son.”

  Seb stared at the ground beside him and tapped the monkey wrench against his thigh. “Um, do you want Evie?”

  Luc folded his arms and clamped his lips together before his brain voiced an automatic Hell, yeah! Seb didn’t need to know his aunt was the object of Luc’s lustful imaginings. “I did come to speak with your aunt. Is she home?”

  “Go on in. She’s probably—”

  “Luc? I mean Mr. Martineau, good morning.” Eva descended the steps, arms full of scrunched newspapers and a black smudge streaking across her cheek. With her hair pulled back from her face by a fancy clip, her resemblance to young Seb was even more noticeable. “Still unpacking here, I’m afraid. Can I offer you a cup of tea? Or is it Seb you came to talk to?”

  “If you have time, I’d like to continue last night’s discussion.”

  “I have time. Seb, take this rubbish to the incinerator and burn it before you spend any more time on that machine.” She dumped the pile of papers in his arms before starting back up the steps.

  Seb’s expression was mulish.

  The boy had more to learn than managing a plantation.

  Turning his back to E
va, Luc leaned over and quietly addressed the teenager. “Bad idea, son. Woman asks for something, give it to her with a smile.” He rested a hand on the motorbike and his voice grew louder for Eva’s benefit. “I look forward to seeing this beauty when you’ve finished doing her up. Reckon maybe your aunt won’t object to her when she sees how good she looks.”

  Understanding flickered into Seb’s eyes.

  “Go on. Your aunt and I have things to discuss.”

  Seb loped off with the newspapers and Luc turned to Eva. “Hope you don’t mind me dropping in again so soon.”

  Color flared under the smudge on her cheek, her fair skin like a beacon marking her change of mood. Abruptly, she turned on her heel and led him to a pair of Adirondack chairs on the verandah and perched on the edge of the furthest seat.

  Reminding Miss Evangeline Abbott that she had fallen into his arms last night was a mistake. English roses had thorns and he needed to keep her on his side if he was to convince her to sell him the plantation. And to help her nephew. But the memory of her wide-eyed awareness and slide of her soft, fair skin beneath his hand distracted him.

  If his business with her was to succeed, he’d do well to keep his attraction hidden for the time being. Lusting after his English neighbor was secondary to convincing her to sell this place to him.

  Unless bedding her helped his cause?

  No. After that brief moment in his arms, Eva had clung to her personal space. Friendship and an interest in her nephew’s education appeared to be the key.

  With a wary eye on her stiff posture, Luc dropped his hat beside the chair, laid his forearms along the chair arms, and sat back.

  “We need to talk about Seb joining the training program.”

  Like flower petals unfurling, she unclasped her hands, half-turned in her seat, and leaned forward. “You’ll take him on? I wasn’t sure after last night.”

  Luc relaxed his grip and tried to ease the kink in his neck muscles. The boy was the key. He should have seen that straight away but shock had knocked him out of the ballpark last night.