The Spanish Tycoon's Takeover

by Michelle Douglas

  * * *

  ‘This isn’t the way back to the motel.’

  Xavier glanced across at Wynne. ‘I’ve instructed Reyes to take us to an Oceanside restaurant. You haven’t had lunch and it is after two. You need to eat.’

  She glanced at her watch, and although he had a feeling that she wanted to argue with him, she subsided back against the upholstery of the limousine. She barely seemed to notice the luxury of the large car, but he appreciated the leather seats after spending so long on those hard hospital benches.

  Wynne must be worn out. He felt drained and he’d done next to nothing.

  ‘I have it on good authority that Clementine’s is an excellent restaurant.’

  ‘Yes, the reviews have been admirable.’

  He frowned as the car came to halt in front of one of the Gold Coast’s most exciting new restaurants and Wynne showed not the slightest interest or excitement. He’d wanted to give her a treat for all her quick thinking and kindness to Serena Gladstone, but it appeared this wasn’t the kind of excursion designed to bring a smile to Wynne’s lips.

  ‘You would rather eat somewhere else?’

  She sent him a look that he found difficult to interpret. ‘I’d be just as happy with hot chips on the beach.’ She glanced down at his feet. ‘But you’re not dressed for the beach.’

  He too glanced down at his Italian leather shoes and silk blend socks. Before he could stop the words coming out of his mouth he said, ‘That can be fixed. I can take them off.’

  She stared at him with so much surprise that he reached down and removed them at once. He met her gaze, defiance threading through him, and raised a deliberately challenging eyebrow. After two beats she gave a laugh and kicked off her own shoes. To see the effervescence and energy return to her eyes was the only reward he needed.

  He bought two cones of chips and they ambled along the beach before finding a spot to sit where they could dig their toes into the sand. The beach—all golden sand and blue skies—stretched for miles in both directions, with the Gold Coast skyline stretching behind—mile upon mile of glamorous high-rises. The lightest of breezes touched his face, bringing with it the scent of salt and jasmine—the former from the ocean and the latter from the woman sitting beside him.

  ‘I want to tell you again that I think you did an extraordinary job today.’

  She frowned. ‘You mean I was supposed to take your earlier criticism as a compliment?’

  He stiffened. ‘What criticism?’

  ‘That by ignoring the Do Not Disturb sign I was being unprofessional.’

  He glared at her. ‘That is not what I meant!’

  She shrugged and stared back out at the surf. ‘It’s what you said.’

  He found himself wrestling with a sudden anger. He was her employer. He didn’t need to explain himself to her.

  Except...except if he’d given her the impression that he’d been criticising her then perhaps he did.

  ‘I am sorry if I gave you that impression.’ His words came out stiff, and he could have sworn out loud when her jaw tightened. ‘What I was trying to say was that I admire your understanding of your clients and your attention to their needs. I admire your...vigilance.’

  She turned back to him, the smallest of frowns lurking in the depths of her eyes. ‘I work in a people profession. I’m trained to anticipate people’s needs.’

  ‘I work in a people profession too.’

  A laugh shot out of her and she immediately tried to smother it. ‘We may work in the same industry, but we’re worlds apart, Xavier—and I’m not just talking about Northern and Southern hemispheres, here. You’re not the least interested in anticipating anyone’s needs. You hire staff for that. What you’re used to is barking out orders and having them obeyed immediately and without question.’

  The moment the words left her she winced, her shoulders edging up towards her ears. ‘I didn’t mean that to sound disrespectful. I just meant we play different roles on the hotel industry’s food chain.’

  He believed her—that she hadn’t meant to offend him. But in that moment he realised how distant, how remote he was from the day-to-day running of his hotels. He couldn’t be remote from this one. It meant too much.

  His heart started to pound. ‘That’s what you meant when you said earlier that I had clearly not worked my way up from the bottom?’

  She eyed him warily and nodded.

  ‘And you do not like it?’

  She glanced away again with a shake of her head that he couldn’t interpret. Her lips remained firmly closed. They’d both abandoned any pretence of eating their chips.

  Something inside him clenched. He pushed his shoulders back. ‘I would prefer you to speak your mind.’

  Her chin lifted. ‘Would you? But if I speak my mind it might give you the reason you’re looking for to give me the old heave-ho?’

  ‘Heave-ho?’

  ‘Fire me,’ she explained.

  ‘Ah, no.’ He shook his head. ‘I cannot dismiss you for anything you say now. Not on a day when you have been a heroine. You are aware, are you not, that you may have in fact saved Serena Gladstone’s life?’

  Her mouth dropped open.

  ‘And I will not dismiss you for being honest when I have asked you to be honest. That would be dishonourable.’

  He followed the bob of her throat as she swallowed. The long clean line of her neck and the warm glow of her skin filtered into his consciousness, and an itch started up deep inside of him. He did his best to ignore it.

  She pressed her hands together and cleared her throat. ‘Mr Ramos—’

  ‘Xavier,’ he ordered.

  Her chest rose and fell. He had a feeling that she was counting to three before she spoke again.

  ‘Xavier, you’ve made no secret of the fact that you don’t like me.’

  He opened his mouth, but she held up a hand and he closed it again.

  ‘I understand personality clashes—they’re a fact of life—but that shouldn’t mean we can’t work together. That’s why manners are so important. They grease the wheels, so to speak, and keep us all civilised. But you’ve made no attempt at politeness. That’s what my earlier comment referred to. If you’d had to work your way up from the bottom you would have more...’

  ‘More...?’ The word emerged on a croak.

  She swallowed. ‘You would have a greater respect for the feelings of others and the impression you make on them.’

  The vein at his temple throbbed. ‘You think I do not care for the feelings of others?’

  He thought back over all their dealings so far—the way he had spoken to her, treated her—and he wanted to close his eyes and swear loud and long. He had been acting like a bear with the proverbial sore head. While she...she had been busy saving a guest’s life! She’d treated him with kindness and friendliness, and in return...

  She deserved better from him. Much better.

  She deserved an explanation.

  It took him a moment before he trusted his voice not to betray him. ‘I do not dislike you, Wynne. It is true, though, that I have been very short with you. That is because I have been expecting opposition from you in relation to the changes I mean to implement at Aggie’s Retreat.’ It took an effort of will not to drag a hand down his face and betray how weary he was. ‘I should have given you the benefit of the doubt. My behaviour has been very rude. I am sorry.’

  Again, the shock in her eyes was not edifying.

  She deserves an honest explanation.

  A weight slammed down on him and his shoulders sagged. Pained scored through his chest. ‘My grief for my grandfather is still very raw and... How do you say it? I have been using you as my whipping boy, yes?’

  She nodded.

  ‘It has been very unfair of me. It is obvio
us that I should’ve waited longer before coming here to the Gold Coast.’

  * * *

  Dear God, the pain in Xavier’s eyes! Wynne had to swallow and blink hard. He must have loved his grandfather very much.

  She refused to voice that thought, though. He hadn’t appreciated any of her attempts at friendliness so far today, and she suspected any prying on her part would be rebuffed...sternly. Even after his heartfelt apology. And it had been heartfelt.

  His revelation of the reason why he’d bought Aggie’s Retreat still shocked her to the soles of her feet. His grief she understood—but his anger... That anger felt far too personal, and she didn’t want to be subjected to it again.

  And yet here on the beach in the bright afternoon sunlight it wasn’t Xavier’s earlier anger that held her attention, but the fact that his eyes weren’t as jet-black as she’d originally thought. She glanced at them again, just to double-check. They were the colour of dark chocolate...and they had the same shine as melted chocolate. She glanced briefly at his lips and then forced her gaze away.

  ‘Am I forgiven?’

  His voice made her start. ‘Of course you’re forgiven, Xavier. I—’ How did she put this tactfully?

  ‘You...?’

  Tact be damned—she went with her heart instead. ‘I’m really sorry that your grandfather is no longer with us.’ It was all she could do not to reach out and clasp his hand. ‘I’m sorry that you miss him so much. But your love and loyalty are a beautiful testimony. You make me wish that I could’ve known him.’

  He stared at her, and then he sent her one of his rare smiles. It did the craziest things to her pulse. Stop it!

  ‘Thank you, Wynne.’

  She hoped her shrug oozed composure. ‘I can understand how the initial shock of being here must’ve...thrown you.’

  Please God, don’t let him interpret that as being too personal.

  She dusted off her hands and did her best to look businesslike. ‘But the fact of the matter is that you are here in Surfers Paradise, and...and surely we should be able to work together in professional manner—especially now we’ve been so honest with each other.’

  ‘I expect you are right.’

  He didn’t look convinced. She soldiered on anyway. She owed it to Tina, April, Meg and Libby...all of her other workers...to stick this out for as long as she could. At least until she could guarantee that their jobs were safe.

  ‘It is in my remit to make your job here easier, Xavier, not harder. I take that duty seriously.’

  He frowned, though not at her, which gave her heart.

  She found a smile. ‘And tomorrow, as they say, is another day. Let’s hope it’s not quite as dramatic.’

  ‘Amen!’

  ‘Oh, and before I forget—I’ve been meaning to mention that while you’re here I’d be happy to make an evening meal for us all.’

  He turned to her, his eyes blank. ‘Who do you mean by us all?’

  ‘You, Reyes and myself...your son and his nanny when they arrive...and any guests who’d like to join us.’ She hesitated when he didn’t answer. ‘I’m not your chef, Xavier, or your maid, so I’m not offering to cook you a meal to serve to you in your room. If you prefer to cook for yourself, or to hire a chef, the kitchen is, of course, at your disposal.’

  His chin came up. ‘I would not ask you to act either as my chef or my maid. I do not doubt that you work hard enough as it is, without adding those jobs to your list of duties.’ He stared at her for several long moments. ‘You are really offering to cook for me?’

  She swallowed at his surprise...and at how intimate the arrangement sounded.

  ‘You and everyone else.’ She made her voice deliberately crisp in an effort to shake off the warm languor that tried to steal over her. ‘I cook an evening meal for myself. It won’t take much extra effort to cook for a few more. It’s the hospitable thing to do, and Aggie’s Retreat prides itself on its hospitality.’

  ‘I would be pleased to accept your offer. It’s very kind of you.’

  She blinked, his warmth surprising her. ‘I do have one rule.’ Not that she was in any position to be making rules, but...

  He tensed. ‘Which is...?’

  ‘There’s to be no work discussions during dinnertime. Dinner is for relaxation and enjoying good food.’

  The tension melted from his shoulders. The smile he sent her nearly melted her to the spot.

  ‘Agreed.’

  She crossed her fingers. Maybe the two of them would find some common ground. Maybe she’d find a way to stop him from smashing her poor little motor inn to smithereens.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘SO, AS YOU can see...’ Wynne gestured to the fence line that separated her little cottage from Aggie’s Retreat ‘...the motel property boundary comes to here.’

  They stood in the western corner at the rear of the property. He pointed to her home. ‘What’s that?’

  It was almost impossible not to tease him. ‘I’m pretty certain you don’t want me to answer a house to that question.’

  His lips didn’t soften. Nor did the determination that made his eyes so dark and intense. He flicked an unimpressed glance in her direction. ‘You would be correct.’

  She bit back a sigh. The glimpses she’d caught yesterday of the grief-stricken grandson, the considerate man who hadn’t resented the time she’d taken to look after Serena, were gone today.

  And yet the memory of his grief—the raw pain that had yawned through his eyes—was burned onto her memory. That man might be nowhere in sight at the moment, but she knew he was in there somewhere—lurking beneath the surface, grieving—and she ached to reach him.

  ‘It is a private residence, yes?’

  She snapped to attention at his barked question. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Who owns it?’

  ‘I do.’

  He stilled, and then he spun to her. ‘I want to buy it. I want that land.’

  She took a step away from him, her chest tightening so hard her lungs hurt. ‘It’s not for sale.’

  That was her home!

  He drummed his fingers against his thigh—a strong and powerful thigh. She stared at those fingers, at that thigh, and swallowed. With a superhuman effort she forced her gaze back to his face, but a buzzing had taken up residence in her blood—a buzzing that soon became a raw, aching need that recognised and relished the strong lean lines of the man in front of her, the broad shoulders, the firm lips...the hot masculine aura that seemed to call to her.

  What on earth was wrong with her? Remember what he wants to do! Remember what he thinks of Aggie!

  She forced her gaze back to her house. ‘It’s not for sale,’ she repeated.

  ‘I would make it worth your while.’

  He was talking about money, but money couldn’t buy her what that little cottage represented—security, a home, cherished memories.

  You could use it as a bargaining chip.

  She reached out to steady herself against the fence. Would she sell her cottage if it would ensure her staff kept their jobs?

  In a heartbeat.

  But the thought had tears burning the backs of her eyes.

  ‘I...’ She swallowed. ‘Can we discuss this another time? I...it’s not something I’d ever considered.’

  ‘As you wish.’

  Ha, that was laughable! Nothing was as she wished.

  Pulling herself together and feigning indifference, she pointed to the roof of the motel. ‘From here you can see quite clearly that we need new guttering.’

  He followed her finger. ‘From here it looks as if the entire roof needs replacing.’

  ‘There’s a reason you got Aggie’s Retreat at such a bargain basement price.’

  His snort told her what he thought
of that.

  She opened the gate in the fence as Tina’s six-year-old twins came racing across from the motel. ‘Hi, boys, have you met Mr Ramos yet?’

  ‘Hello, Mr Ramos,’ they sing-songed.

  ‘Xavier, this is Blake and Heath—Tina’s sons.’

  ‘We’re going to play cricket,’ Blake said, as both boys shot into her backyard.

  She glanced at Xavier, who stared after them bemused. ‘They have great plans to teach your Luis how to play cricket.’

  Stunned dark eyes met hers. ‘Luis?’

  ‘But of course. I told you we do a mighty fine welcome here at Aggie’s Retreat.’ She grinned up at him. ‘Playmates for the boss’s son at no extra cost.’

  ‘They...they play here every day?’

  ‘Every school day.’

  ‘You run a crèche as well as a guest house?’

  She folded her arms. ‘I do what I can to keep my staff happy. I employ good people and I want to keep them. Letting Heath and Blake play in my backyard for an hour or so till Tina’s shift ends is no skin off anyone’s nose.’

  He shook his head. ‘This expression I do not know.’

  Oh. ‘Um... I simply mean the arrangement doesn’t hurt anyone...and it does some good. Why wouldn’t I choose an option that ticks those boxes?’

  He didn’t say anything.

  She folded her arms. ‘They’re nice boys.’

  ‘I’m sure they are.’

  She waited, but he didn’t add anything.

  He rolled his shoulders and glared. ‘Why are you looking at me like this?’ he burst out.

  ‘Thank you, Wynne, for thinking of my son...?’

  ‘I...’

  A breath huffed out of her. She couldn’t stop it. ‘Your suspicion is insulting. We do not have dastardly designs on Luis.’

  He drew himself up to his full imposing height. ‘I never for a moment thought you did.’

  She wanted to call him a liar.

  Bite your tongue. Pick your battles. You have bigger fish to fry.

  His eyes flashed. ‘I have phone calls to make and business to attend to.’