Taming the Last AcostaItalian Boss, Proud Miss Prim

by Susan Stephens

‘You know—you tell me.’

  The old gaucho answered this with a shrug as he went out through the door.

  * * *

  She shouldn’t have left the door to her bedroom open, Romy realised, stirring sleepily. It wasn’t wide open, but it was open enough to appear inviting. She had meant to close it, but had fallen asleep on the bed after her shower. Jet-lag and baby-body, she supposed. She needed a siesta these days.

  She needed more than that. Holly Acosta had warned her about this phase of pregnancy...hormones running riot...the ‘sex-mad phase’, Holly had dubbed it, Romy remembered, clutching her pillow as she tried to forget.

  Maybe she had left the door open on purpose, Romy concluded as Kruz, still damp from his shower and clad only in a towel, strolled into the room. Maybe she had deluded herself that they could have one last hurrah and then she would tell him. But she had not expected this surge of feeling as her body warmed in greeting. She had not expected Kruz simply to walk into the room expecting sex, or that she would feel quite so ready to oblige him. What had happened to all those bold resolutions about remaining chaste until she had told him about the baby?

  She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. She just made room for him on the bed. She was well covered in a sheet—which was more than could be said for Kruz. Her throat felt as if it was tied in knots when the towel he had tucked around his waist dropped to the floor.

  Settling down on the bed, he kept some tantalising, teasing space between them, while she covered the evidence of her pregnancy with the bedding. Resting on one elbow, he stared into her eyes, and at that moment she would have done anything for him.

  Anything.

  He toyed with her hair, teasing her with the delay, while she turned her face to brush her lips along his hand. Remembered pleasure was a strong driver—the strongest. She wanted him. She couldn’t hide it. She didn’t want to. Her body had more needs now than ever before.

  ‘You’ve put on weight, Romy,’ he murmured, suckling on her breasts. ‘Don’t,’ he complained when she tried to stop him, nervous that Kruz might take his interest lower. ‘The added weight suits you. I meant it as a compliment.’

  Kruz was in a hurry—which was good. She wasn’t even sure he noticed the distinct swell of her belly on his way to his destination. She was all sensation...all want and need...with only one goal in mind. She wasn’t even sure whether Kruz pressed her legs apart or whether she opened them for him. She only knew that she was resting back on a soft bank of pillows while he held her thighs apart. And when he bent to his task he was so good... Lacing her fingers through his hair, she decided he was a master of seduction—not that she needed much persuasion. He was so skilled. His tongue... His hands... His understanding of her needs and responses was so acute, so knowing, so—

  He paused to protect them both. She thought about telling him then, but it would have been ridiculous, and anyway the hunger was raging inside her now. She wanted him. He wanted her. It was a need so deep, so primal, that nothing could stop them now. She groaned as he sank deep. This was so good—it felt so right. Kruz set up a rhythm, which she followed immediately, mirroring his moves, but with more fire, more need, more urgency.

  ‘That’s right—come for me, baby.’

  She didn’t need any encouragement and fell blindly, violently, triumphantly, with screaming, keening, groaning relief. And Kruz kissed her all the while, his strong arms holding her safe as she tumbled fast and hard. His firm mouth softened to whisper of encouragement as he made sure she enjoyed every second of it before he even thought of taking his own pleasure. When he did it raised her erotic temperature again. Just seeing him enjoying her was enough to do that. The pleasure was never-ending, and as wave after wave after wave of almost unbearable sensation washed over her it was Kruz who kept her safe to abandon herself to this unbelievable union of body and soul.

  Sensation and emotion combined had to be the most powerful force any human being could tap into, she thought, still groaning with pleasure as she slowly came down. Clinging to Kruz, nestling against his powerful body, left her experiencing feelings so strong, so beautiful, she could hardly believe they were real. She smiled as she kissed him, moving to his shoulders, to his chest, to his neck. After such brutally enjoyable pleasure this was a rare tender moment to treasure. A life-changing moment, she thought as Kruz continued to tend to her needs.

  ‘Romy?’

  She sensed the change in him immediately.

  ‘What?’ she murmured. But she already knew, and felt a chill run through her when Kruz lifted his head. The look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know. They were black with fury.

  ‘When were you planning to tell me?’ he said.

  CHAPTER TEN

  SHE HAD EVERY reason to hate the condemnation in Kruz’s black stare. She loved her child already. Yes, cool, hard, emotionless Romy Winner had turned into a soft, blobby cocoon overnight. But still with warrior tendencies, she realised as she wriggled up the bed. If he wanted a fight she was ready.

  Two of them had made this baby, and their child was a precious life she was prepared to defend with her own life. She surprised herself with how immediately her priorities could change. She wasn’t alone any more. It would never be just about her again. She was a mother. In hindsight, she had been mad to think Kruz wouldn’t notice she was pregnant. The swell of her belly was small, but growing bigger every day, as if the child they’d made together was as proud and strong as its parents.

  She was happy to admit her guilt. She was guilty of backing away at the first hurdle and not telling Kruz right away. Allowing him to find out like this way was a terrible thing to do. It had been seeing him and forgetting everything in the moment...

  ‘Are you ashamed of the baby?’ he said. Springing into a sitting position, he loomed over her, a terrifying powerhouse of suppressed outrage.

  Before her mouth had a chance to form words he detached himself from her arms and swung off the bed. Striding across the room, he closed the door on the bathroom and she heard him run the shower. He was shocked and she was frantic. Her mind refused to cooperate and tell her what to do next. She’d really messed up, and now she would be caught in the whirlwind.

  He’d been away, she reasoned as she listened to Kruz in the bathroom.

  There was the telephone. There was the internet. There was always a way of getting hold of someone. She just hadn’t tried.

  They didn’t have that kind of relationship.

  What did they have?

  She hadn’t been prepared for pregnancy because she’d had no reason to suppose she was in line to make a baby.

  You had sex, didn’t you?

  The brutal truth. They’d had sex vigorously and often. Two casual acquaintances coming together for no other purpose than mindless pleasure until the charity gave them a common aim. They had enjoyed each other greedily and thoughtlessly, with only a mind to that pleasure. Maybe Kruz thought she was going to hit him with a paternity suit. Holly had explained to her once that the Acostas were so close and kept the world at bay because massive wealth brought massive risk. They found it hard to trust anyone, because most people had an agenda.

  ‘Kruz—’

  She flinched as the door opened and quickly wrapped the sheet around her. Yet again she was wasting time thinking when she should be doing. She should have got dressed and then she could face him as an equal, rather than having to try and tug the sheet from the bottom of the bed so she could retain what little dignity was left to her.

  ‘No— Wait—’ Kruz had pulled on his jeans and top and was heading for the door. Somehow she managed to yank the sheet free and stumble towards him. ‘Please—I realise this must be a terri
ble shock for you, but we really have to talk.’

  ‘A shock?’ he said icily, staring down at her hand on his arm.

  She recoiled from him. Suddenly Kruz’s arm felt like the arm of a stranger, while she felt like a hysterical woman accosting someone she didn’t know.

  She tried again—calmly this time. ‘Please... We must talk.’

  ‘Now we need to talk?’ he said mildly.

  She had hurt him. But it was so much more than that. Kruz was shocked—felled by the enormity of what she’d been keeping from him. His brain was scrambled. She could tell he needed space. ‘Please...’ she said gently, trying to appeal to a softer side of him.

  ‘No,’ he rapped, pulling away. ‘No,’ he said again, shaking her off. ‘You can’t just hit me with this and expect me to produce a ready-made plan.’

  She didn’t expect anything from him, but she couldn’t just let him turn his back and walk away. Moving in front of him, she leaned against the door. ‘Well, that’s up to you. I can’t stop you leaving.’

  Kruz’s icy expression assured her this was the case.

  ‘I don’t want anything from you,’ she said, trying to subdue the tremor in her voice. ‘I know a baby isn’t a good enough reason for us to stay together in some sort of mismatched hook-up—’

  ‘I wasn’t aware we were planning to hook up,’ he cut in with a quiet intensity that really scared her.

  She moved away from the door. What else could she do? She felt dead inside. She should have told him long before now, but Kruz’s reaction to finding out had completely thrown her. They were both responsible for a new life, but he seemed determined to shut that fact out. She would have to speak to him through lawyers when she got back to England, and somehow she would have to complete her work for the charity while she was here in Argentina—with or without Kruz Acosta’s co-operation.

  Needing isolation and time to think, she hurried to the bathroom and shut the door—just in time to hear Kruz close the outer door behind him.

  * * *

  No! No! No! This could not be happening. He micro-managed every aspect of his life to make sure something unexpected could never blindside him. So how? Why now?

  Why ever?

  With no answers that made sense he stalked in the direction of the stables.

  A child? His child? His baby?

  His mind was filled with wonder. But having a child was unthinkable for him. It was a gift he could never accept. He couldn’t share his nightmares—not with Romy and much less with an innocent child. Who knew what he was capable of?

  In the army they’d said there were three kinds of soldiers: those who were trained to kill and couldn’t bring themselves to do it; those who were trained to kill and enjoyed it; and those who were trained to kill and did so because it was their duty. They did that duty on auto-pilot, without allowing themselves to think. He had always thought that last type of soldier was the most dangerous and the most damned, because they had only one choice. That was to live their lives after the army refusing to remember, refusing to feel, refusing to face what they’d done. He was that soldier.

  There was only one option open to him. He would allow Romy to complete her work here and then he would send her back. He would provide for the child and for Romy. He would write a detailed list of everything she must have and then he would hand that list over to his PA.

  From the first night he had woken screaming he had vowed never to inflict his nightmares on anyone. The things he’d witnessed—the things he’d done—none of that was remotely acceptable to him in the clear light of peace. He was damned for all time. He had been claimed by the dark side, which was the best reason he knew to keep himself aloof from decent people. He could not allow himself to feel anything for Romy, or for their child—not unless he wanted to damage them both. The best, the only thing he could do to protect them was to step out of Romy’s life.

  The mechanical function of tacking up his stallion soothed him and set his decision in stone. The great beast and he would share the wild danger of a gallop across the pampas. They both needed to break free, to run, to seize life without thought or plan for what might lay ahead.

  He rode as far as the river and then kicked his booted feet out of the stirrups. Throwing the reins over the stallion’s head, he dismounted. All he could see wherever he looked was Romy, and all he could hear was her voice. The apprehension and concern in her eyes was as clear now as if she were standing in front of him. She was frightened she wasn’t ready for a baby. He would never be ready. His family, who tolerated him, knew more than most people did about him, was enough.

  Tipping his face to the sun, he realised this was the first time he had ever backed away from any challenge. He normally met each one head-on. But this tiny unborn child had stopped him dead in his tracks without a road map or a solution. He didn’t question the fact that the child was his. The little he knew about Romy gave him absolute trust in what she told him. Whistling up his stallion, he sprang into the saddle and turned for home.

  * * *

  She packed her case and then left the hacienda to take the shots she needed for Grace. She knelt and waited silently on the riverbank for what felt like hours for the flocks of birds feeding close by to wheel and soar like ribbons in the sky. She could only marvel at their beauty. It gave her a sort of peace which she hoped would transmit to the baby.

  There was no perfect world, Romy concluded. There were only perfect moments like this, populated by imperfect human beings like herself and Kruz, who were just trying to make the best of their journey through life. It was no use wishing she could share this majestic beauty with their child. She would never be invited to Argentina. She might never see the snow-capped Andes and smell the lush green grass again, but her photographs would remind her of the wild land the father of her child inhabited.

  Hoisting her kitbag onto her shoulder, she started back to the hacienda. She had barely reached the courtyard when she saw Kruz riding towards her. She loved him. It was that simple. Turning in the opposite direction, she kept her head down and walked rapidly away. She wasn’t ready for this.

  Would she ever be ready for this?

  She stopped and changed direction, following him round to the stables, where she found him dismounting. Without acknowledging her presence, he led the stallion past her.

  He had been calm, Kruz realised. The ride had calmed him. But seeing Romy again had shaken him to the core. He wanted her—and more than in just a sexual way. He wanted to put his arm around her and share her worries and excitement, to see where the road took them. But Romy’s life wasn’t an experiment he could dip into. He might not be able to shake the feeling that they belonged together, but the only safe thing for Romy was to put her out of his life.

  ‘Kruz...’

  He lifted the saddle onto the fence and started taking his horse’s bridle off.

  ‘How could I go to bed with you, knowing I was pregnant,’ she said, ‘and yet say nothing?’

  Her voice, soft and shaking slightly, touched him somewhere deep. He turned to find her frowning. ‘Don’t beat yourself up about it,’ he said without expression. ‘What’s done is done.’

  ‘And cannot be undone,’ she whispered as the stallion turned a reproachful gaze on him. ‘Not that I...’

  As her voice faded his gaze slipped to her stomach, where the swell of pregnancy was quite evident on her slender frame. In his rutting madness he had chosen not to see it. He felt guil
ty now.

  The stallion whickered and nuzzled him imperatively, searching for a mint. He found one and the stallion took it delicately from his hand. Clicking his tongue, he tried to move the great beast on, but his horse wasn’t going anywhere. As of this moment, one small girl with her chin jutting out had half a ton of horseflesh bending to her will.

  ‘He needs feeding,’ he said without emotion as he waited for Romy to move aside.

  ‘I have needs too,’ she said, but her soft heart put the horse first, and so she moved, allowing him to lead the stallion to his stable.

  ‘Are you going to make me wait as I made you wait?’ she said as she watched him settle the horse.

  He was checking its hooves, but lifted his head to look at her.

  ‘Okay, I get it—you’re not so petty,’ she said. ‘But we do have to talk some time, Kruz.’

  He returned to what he’d been doing without a word.

  She waited by the stable door, watching Kruz looking after his big Criolla. What she wouldn’t do for a moment of that studied care...

  So what are you standing around for?

  ‘Can I—’

  ‘Can you what?’ he said, still keenly aware of her, apparently, even though he had his back turned to her.

  ‘Can I come in and give him a mint?’ she asked.

  The few seconds’ pause felt like an hour.

  ‘Hold your hand out flat,’ he said at last.

  She took the mint, careful not to touch Kruz more than she had to. Her heart thundered as he stood back. There was nothing between her and the enormous horse that just stood motionless, staring at her unblinking. Her throat felt dry, and her heart was thundering, but then, as if a decision had been made, the stallion’s head dropped and its velvet lips tickled her palm. Surprised by its gentleness, she stroked its muzzle. The prickle of whiskers made her smile, and she went on to stroke its sleek, shiny neck. The warmth was soothing, and the contact between them made her relax.