Taming the Last AcostaItalian Boss, Proud Miss Prim

by Susan Stephens

‘Here—have this. I can always grab another.’

  ‘I couldn’t possibly—’

  Kruz tossed his towel around her neck. Taking the edges, she wrapped it round her shoulders like a cloak. It still held his warmth.

  ‘So you’re really serious about the gym?’ he said.

  ‘I like to break sweat,’ she agreed, shooting him a level stare as if daring him to find fault with that. ‘Why haven’t I seen you here before?’ she said as an afterthought. ‘You slumming it?’

  ‘Please,’ Kruz murmured. ‘My office is only round the corner.’

  ‘And you don’t have a gym?’ she said, opening her eyes wide with mock surprise.

  ‘It’s under construction,’ he said, giving her the cynical look he was so good at.

  ‘I’m impressed,’ she said.

  ‘You should be.’

  If only that crease in his cheek wasn’t so attractive. ‘Maybe I’ll come and take a look at it when it’s finished.’

  ‘I might hold you to that.’

  Please. ‘I’m very busy,’ she said dryly, still holding the dark, compelling stare. ‘I have a very demanding private client.’

  Kruz’s eyes narrowed as he held her gaze. ‘I hope I know him.’

  ‘I think you do. So, how do you know Charlie?’ she said, seizing on the first thing that came to mind to break the stare-off between them.

  ‘Charlie’s an old friend,’ Kruz explained, pulling back.

  ‘Were you both in the army?’ she asked on a hunch.

  ‘Same regiment,’ Kruz confirmed, but then he went quiet and the smile died in his eyes. ‘I’d better get started,’ he said.

  ‘And I’d better go take my shower,’ she agreed as they parted.

  ‘Don’t miss the fun,’ Charlie called after her.

  ‘What fun?’

  ‘Don’t miss Kruz in the ring.’

  She turned to look at him.

  ‘Why don’t you come in the ring with me?’ Kruz suggested. ‘You could be my second.’

  ‘Sorry. I don’t do second.’

  He laughed. ‘Or you could fight me,’ he suggested.

  ‘Do I look stupid? Don’t answer that,’ she said quickly, holding up her hands as Kruz shot her a look.

  This was actually turning out better than she had thought when she’d first seen Kruz walk into the gym. They were sparring in good way—verbally teasing each other—and she liked that. It made her feel warm inside.

  Charlie caught up with her on the way to the changing rooms. ‘Don’t be too hard on him, Romy.’

  ‘Who are we talking about? Kruz?’

  ‘You know who we’re talking about,’ the old pro said, glancing around to make sure they weren’t being overheard. ‘Believe me, Romy, you have no idea what that man’s been through.’

  ‘No, I don’t,’ she agreed. ‘I don’t know anything about him. Why would I?’

  Did Charlie know anything? Had Kruz said something? Her antennae were twitching on full alert.

  ‘You should know what he’s done for his friends,’ Charlie went on, speaking out of the corner of his mouth. ‘The lives he’s saved—the things he’s seen.’

  The guarded expression left her face. This was the longest speech she had ever heard Charlie make. There was no doubt in her mind Charlie was sincere, and she felt reassured that Kruz hadn’t said anything about their encounter to him. ‘I don’t think Kruz wants anyone to go easy on him,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘but I’ll certainly bear in mind what you’ve said.’

  Charlie shook his head in mock disapproval. ‘You’re a hard woman, Romy Winner. You two deserve each other.’

  ‘Now, that’s something I have to disagree with,’ Romy said, lightening up. ‘You just don’t know your clientele, Charlie. Shame on you.’ She smiled as she gave Charlie a wink.

  ‘I know them better than you think,’ Charlie muttered beneath his breath as Romy shouldered her way into the women’s changing room. ‘Go take that shower, then join me ringside,’ he called after her.

  Romy rushed through her shower, emptying a whole bottle of shower gel over her glowing body before lathering her hair with a half a bottle of shampoo. The white tiled floor in the utilitarian shower block was like a skating rink by the time she had finished. Thank goodness her hair was short, she reflected, frantically towelling down. She didn’t want to miss a second of this bout. She stared at herself in the mirror. Make-up? Her eyes were bright enough with excitement and her cheeks were flushed. Tugging on her leggings, her flat boots and grey hoodie, she swung her gym bag on to her shoulder and went to join the crowd assembling around the ring at the far end of the gym.

  The scent of clean sweat mingled with anticipation came to greet her. This was her sort of party.

  ‘Quite a crowd,’ she remarked to Charlie, feeling her heart lurch as Kruz vaulted the ropes into the ring. When he turned to look at her, her heart went crazy. Naked to the waist, Kruz was so hot her body couldn’t wait to remind her about getting up close and personal with him. She pressed her thighs together, willing the feeling to subside. No such luck. As Kruz turned his back and she saw his muscles flex the pulse only grew stronger.

  ‘It’s not often we get two champions in the ring—even here at my gym,’ Charlie said, his scratchy voice tense with anticipation.

  The other kick-boxer was a visitor from the north of England called Heath Stamp. He’d been a bad boy too, according to rumour, and Romy knew him by reputation as a formidable fighter. But Heath was nothing compared to Kruz in her eyes. Kruz’s hard, bronzed body gleamed with energy beneath the lights. He was a man in the peak of health, just approaching his prime.

  A man with the potential to happily service a harem of women.

  ‘Stop,’ she said out loud, in the hope of silencing her inner voice.

  ‘Did you say something, Romy?’ Charlie enquired politely, cupping his ear.

  ‘No—just a reminder to myself,’ she said dryly.

  ‘There’s no one else the champ can spar with,’ Charlie confided, without allowing his attention to be deflected for a second from the ring.

  ‘Lucky Kruz came along, then.’

  ‘I’m talking about Kruz,’ Charlie rebuked her. ‘Kruz is the champ. I should know. I trained him in the army.’

  She turned to stare at the rapt face of the elderly man standing next to her. He knew more about Kruz than she did. And he would be reluctant to part with a single shred of information unless it was general info like Kruz’s exploits in the gym. What was it with Charlie today? She’d never seen him so animated. She’d never seen such fierce loyalty in his eyes or heard it in his voice. It made her want to know all those things Kruz kept secret—for he did keep secrets. Of that much she was certain.

  So some men were as complex as women, Romy reasoned, telling herself not to make a big deal out of it as the referee brought the two combatants together in the centre of the ring. Kruz was entitled to his privacy as much as she was, and he was lucky to have a loyal friend like Charlie.

  As the bout got under way and the onlookers started cheering Romy only had eyes for one man. The skill level was intense, but there was something about Kruz that transcended skill and made him a master. Being a fighter herself, she suspected that he was holding back. She wondered about this, knowing Kruz could have ended the match in Round One if he had wanted to. Instead he chose to see it through until his opponent began to flag, when Kruz called a halt. Proclaiming the match a draw, he bumped the glove of his opponent, raising Heath Stamp’s arm high in the air before the referee could say a word about it.

  ‘That’s one of the benefits of having a special attachment to this gym,’ Kruz explained, laughing when she pulled him up on it as he vaulted the ropes to land at her side.

  ‘A special attachment?’ she probed.


  ‘I used to own it,’ he revealed casually, his voice muffled as he rubbed his face on a towel.

  ‘You used to own this gym?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Kruz confirmed, pulling the towel down.

  She glanced round, frowning. Charlie was busy consoling the other fighter. She’d known Charlie for a number of years and had always assumed he owned the gym. ‘I had no idea you were in the leisure industry,’ she said, turning back to Kruz.

  ‘Amongst other things.’ Grabbing a water bottle from his second, Kruz drank deeply before pouring the rest over his head. ‘I own a lot of gyms, Romy.’

  ‘News to me.’

  ‘My apologies,’ he said with a wry look. ‘I’ll make sure my PA puts you on my “needs to know” list right away.’

  ‘See that you do,’ she said, with a mock-fierce stare. Were they getting on? Were they really getting on?

  ‘So, what are you doing next?’ Kruz asked her.

  ‘Going home.’

  ‘What about food?’

  ‘What about it? I’m not hungry.’

  ‘Surely you’re over your sickness now?’

  ‘Yes, of course I am.’ Actually, she had felt queasy again earlier on.

  ‘Hang on while I take a shower,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you in Reception in ten.’

  ‘But—’

  That was all she had time for before Kruz headed off. Raking her short hair with frustration, she was left to watch him run the gauntlet of admirers on his way to the men’s changing room. Why did he want to eat with her? Or was food not on the menu? Her heart lurched alarmingly at the thought that it might not be. She wasn’t about to fall into ever-ready mode. Just because she enjoyed sex with a certain man it did not mean Kruz had a supply on tap.

  In all probability he just wanted to talk about the charity project, her sensible self reassured her.

  And if he didn’t want to chat...?

  They’d be in a café somewhere. What was the worst that could happen?

  They’d leave the food and run?

  Clearly the bout had put Kruz in a good mood, Romy concluded as he came through the inner doors into the reception area.

  ‘Ready to go?’ he said, holding the door for her.

  So far so good. Brownie points for good manners duly awarded.

  ‘There’s a place just around the corner,’ he said, ‘where we can get something to eat.’

  ‘I know it.’ He was referring to the café they all called the Greasy Spoon—though nothing could be further from the truth. True enough, it was a no-nonsense feeding station, with bright lights, Formica tables, hard chairs, but there was a really good cook on the grill who served up high-quality ingredients for impatient athletes with colossal appetites.

  They found a table in the window. There wasn’t much of a view as it was all steamed up. The air-conditioning was an open door at the back of the kitchen.

  ‘Okay here?’ Kruz said when they were settled.

  ‘Fine. Thank you.’ She refused to be overawed by him—but that wasn’t easy when her mind insisted on undressing him.

  She was working for the Acosta family now, Romy reminded herself, and she had to concentrate on that. It was just a bit odd, having had the most amazing sex with this man and having to pretend they had not. Kruz seemed to have forgotten all about it—or maybe it was just one more appetite to slake, she reflected as the waitress came to take their order.

  ‘Do you mind if I take a photo of you?’ she said, pulling out her phone.

  ‘Why?’ Kruz said suspiciously.

  ‘Why the phone? I don’t have my camera.’

  ‘Why the photograph?’

  ‘Because you look half human—because this is a great setting—because everyone thinks of the Acostas as rarefied beings who live on a different planet to them. I just want to show people that you do normal things too.’

  ‘Steak and chips?’ Kruz suggested wryly, tugging off his heavy jacket.

  ‘Steak and chips,’ she agreed, returning his smile. Oh, boy, how that smile of his heated her up. ‘You’d better not be laughing at me,’ she warned, running off a series of shots.

  ‘Let me see,’ he said, holding out his hand for her phone.

  ‘Me first,’ she argued. Wow. She blew out a slow, controlled breath as she studied the shot. Kruz’s thick, slightly too long hair waved and gleamed like mahogany beneath the lights. The way it caught on his sideburns and stubble was...

  ‘Romy?’ he said

  ‘Not yet,’ she teased. ‘You’ll have to wait for the newsletter.’ To see those powerful shoulders clad in the softest air-force blue cashmere and those well-packed worn and faded jeans...

  ‘Romy?’ Kruz said, sounding concerned when she went off into her own little dreamworld.

  Snap! Snap!

  ‘There. That should do it,’ she said, passing the phone across the table.

  ‘Not bad,’ Kruz admitted grudgingly. ‘You’ve reminded me I need to shave.’

  ‘Glad to be of service,’ she said, blushing furiously half a beat later. Being that type of service was not what she meant, she assured herself sternly as Kruz pushed the phone back to her side of the table.

  Fortunately their food arrived, letting her off the hook. She had ordered a Caesar salad with prawn, while Kruz had ordered steak and fries. Both meals were huge. And every bit as delicious as expected.

  ‘This is a great place,’ she said, tucking in. As Kruz murmured agreement she made the mistake of glancing at his mouth. Fork suspended, she stared until she realised he was looking at her mouth too. ‘Yours good?’ she murmured distractedly. Kruz had a really sexy mouth. And an Olympian appetite, she registered as he called for a side of mushrooms, onion rings and a salad to add to his order.

  ‘Something wrong with your meal, Romy?’

  ‘No. It’s delicious.’ She stared intently at her salad, determined not to be distracted by him again.

  Food was a great ice-breaker. It oiled the wheels of conversation better than anything she knew. ‘So, tell me more about Charlie’s gym. I’ve been going there for years and I had no idea you used to own it.’

  Kruz frowned. ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘I always thought Charlie owned it. Not that it matters,’ she said.

  ‘He does own it.’ And, when she continued to urge him on with a look of interest, Kruz offered cryptically, ‘Things change over time, Romy.’

  ‘Right.’ The conversation seemed to have gone the same way as their empty plates. ‘Charlie never stopped talking about you,’ she said to open it up again. ‘He admires you so much, Kruz.’

  Personal comments were definitely a no-no, she concluded as Kruz gave her a flat black look. ‘Do you want coffee?’ He was already reaching for his wallet. This down-time was over.

  ‘No. I’m fine. Let me get this.’

  For once in her life she managed not to fumble and got out a couple of twenties to hand to the waitress before Kruz had a chance to disagree.

  He did not look pleased. ‘You should not have done that,’ he said.

  ‘Why not? Because you’re rich and I’m not?’

  ‘Don’t be so touchy, Romy.’

  She was touchy? ‘I’m not touchy,’ she protested, standing up. ‘Aren’t you the guy who’s taking me to some swish event on Saturday?’ She shrugged. ‘The least I can do is buy you dinner.’

  ‘You will be a guest of the family on Saturday,’ he said.

  Heaven forfend she should mistake it for a date.

  ‘And where Charlie’s concerned I’d prefer you don’t say anything about the gym to him,’ Kruz added. ‘That man is not and never has been in my debt. If anything, I’m in his.’

  She hadn’t anticipated such a speech, and wonde
red what lay behind it—especially in light of Charlie’s words about Kruz. The plot thickens, she thought. But as it showed no sign of being solved any time soon she followed Kruz to the door.

  ‘Until Saturday,’ he said, barely turning to look at her as he spoke.

  Someone was touchy when it came to questions about his past. ‘I’ll meet you at the hotel,’ she said briskly, deciding she really did not want him at her place. She was surprised when he didn’t argue.

  She watched Kruz thread his way through the congested traffic with easy grace—talking of which, for Grace’s sake she would find something other than sweats or leggings to wear on Saturday night. She wanted to do the family proud. She didn’t want to stand out for all the wrong reasons. Khalifa’s department store was on her way home, so she had no excuse.

  In the sale she picked out an understated column of deep blue silk that came somewhere just above her knees. It was quite flattering. The rich blue made her hair seem shinier and brought out the colour of her eyes. No gel or red tips on Saturday, she thought, viewing herself in the mirror. She normally dressed to please herself, but she didn’t want to let Grace down. And, okay, maybe she did want strut her stuff just a little bit in front of Kruz. This was one occasion when being ‘wiry’, as Charlie frequently and so unflatteringly referred to her, was actually an advantage. The sale stuff was all in tiny sizes. She even tried on a pair of killer heels—samples, the salesgirl told her.

  ‘That’s why they’re in the sale,’ the girl explained. ‘You’re the first person who can get her feet into them. They’re size Tinkerbell.’

  Romy slanted her a smile. ‘Tinkerbell suits me fine. I always did like to create a bit of mayhem.’

  They both laughed as they took Romy’s haul to the till.

  ‘You’ll have men flocking,’ the girl told her as she rang up Romy’s purchases.

  ‘Yeah, right.’ And the one man she would like to come flocking would be totally unmoved. ‘Thanks for all your help,’ Romy said, flashing a goodbye smile as she picked up the bag.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SOMETHING PROPELLED HIM to his feet. Romy had just entered the sumptuously dressed ballroom. He might have known. Animal instinct had driven him to his feet, he acknowledged wryly as that same instinct transferred to his groin. Romy had taken his hint to dress for the occasion, expanding his thoughts as to what she might wear beyond his wildest dreams. Hunger pounded in his eyes as her slanting navy blue gaze found his. Nothing could have prepared him for this level of transformation, or for the way she made him feel. He acted nonchalant as she began to weave her way through the other guests, heading for their table, but with that short blue-black hair, elfin face and the understated silk dress she was easily the most desirable woman in the room.