“Your girlfriend isn’t snorkelling,” Ness pointed out.
She was rewarded by another amused look from her uninvited visitor. “Ah, so you saw Aimee? Don’t be jealous, Ness. She’s nothing serious and not nearly as sexy as you are in that tiny bikini.”
“I’m not jealous!” Ness shrieked. Her hands flew to her chest and she felt herself grow hot. “And I can wear what I like on my own beach.”
“You certainly can,” he agreed.
Oh! He was infuriating. Trying her best to ignore his grey eyes as they roamed over her body, Ness decided to take a different tack.
“Anyway, this is my beach. You don’t own it yet,” she said coldly.
A smile played on his lips. “So you think I will one day, then?”
“No! Of course not! I didn’t mean that.”
Max mightn’t be wrong-footed but Ness was totally thrown. While he was standing there in all his well-honed masculine glory, she was horrified to discover that she could hardly think straight. It was as if the sunshine had gone straight to her hormones. To her dismay she found herself wondering what his chest would feel like beneath her fingertips. She could imagine flicking her tongue over the smooth flesh and tasting the salt water…
What on earth was the matter with her?
“My offer still stands,” Max was saying. “Eight million and an apartment. In fact I’ll even throw one in for your cousin too. How does that sound?”
Even clad in shorts and on the beach Max had an air of arrogance and command that took her breath away. He was talking business to her here? Seriously, did the man never give up?
“How does it sound? Like you’re getting desperate,” she answered.
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Not at all, Ness. I can afford to wait but that offer of an apartment for Lucy might expire. I’d think about it seriously if I were you.”
“You can’t bribe me,” said Ness scornfully.
“Bribe? That’s unkind.” He stepped forward and now there was a dark gleam in his eyes which made her pulse quicken. “Persuade is the word I’d have used. Maybe you could persuade me to change my mind? From what I remember, Nessa Penwellyn, you could persuade a man to do anything. I’m willing to take that risk if you are. Beaches are our place as I recall?”
His voice was low but the meaning was clear: he was referring to that first intense kiss they’d shared on the night she’d arrived in St Pirran. It had been perfect and Ness could have kissed him forever that evening. She’d thought about it since far more often than she liked to admit, the way he’d almost been drinking her in and the way her bones had melted. Sometimes she’d dreamed about it and woken up in the pitch darkness of her tower bedroom with her heart racing and longing for more…
But that was before she’d known who Max Reynard was and before she’d discovered that he would stop at nothing to possess the island. Her feelings didn’t matter; she would put those aside. But as for his? Ness almost laughed out loud at her own stupidity for wavering for so much as a millisecond. He was just a good actor and he’d do anything he could to get his way.
She had to tell him that there was nothing he could do or say, that she wanted him to go away, that she wished she’d never set eyes on him – but the words simply wouldn’t come. When those grey eyes held hers she lost all thought and reason. All she could think about was how his mouth had felt against hers and how she’d wanted nothing more than to pull him closer and deeper.
“Ness?” He was only inches away from her now, so close that she could feel the coolness of the seawater on his limbs against the heat of her own skin. Her name was a whisper of longing and, before she knew it, Max had cupped her face with his hands and lowered his mouth against hers, his lips hard yet gentle, hot and yet cool, pressing kisses onto her bottom lip and the corners of her cupid’s bow. Then, as her lips parted, his tongue met her own with such hunger that her body turned limper than the seaweed strewn along the shoreline.
Ness felt herself falling. For a moment she was kissing him back, matching his hunger with her own and lost in the million and one sensations from just the skimming of his thumb over her cheek or the warmth of his palm against the small of her back. She was melting like Cornish ice cream in the sun, and if Max carried on kissing her she knew there would be no holding back. Somewhere in the back of her mind a voice was shouting at her to stop and think about what she was doing. This was no stolen, unknowing kiss under the big-eyed moon. This time she knew exactly who this man was and what he was about. Lips could lie in more ways than one.
She broke the kiss first and they stared at one another, their breathing ragged and eyes dark with desire.
“Do you want me to stop?” Max asked softly.
Ness couldn’t speak. What on earth was she doing, kissing this man? She knew exactly what he was: an opportunist who would stop at nothing to get his hands on the island. But did she want him to stop?
Oh Lord, no. Of course she didn’t.
“This isn’t a good idea,” was all she could say, taking a wobbly step back and giving his bare chest a shove. If she could maintain some distance between them for a moment, then maybe she would just about find the strength to say stop. But if he so much as touched her again, Ness knew she would be lost.
He gave her a penetrating look. “Because you don’t want to or because of the island? That’s just business, Ness, not pleasure.”
“Are you sure the two aren’t intertwined?”
His lips curved as his eyes dipped to her breasts. “I’m not saying pleasure isn’t involved in some capacity, but maybe that can work for both of us? We can surely come to an agreement that works in every way?”
It was all about the business with him. How could he separate the two so coolly? His touch, his mouth on hers, had almost made Ness lose control – but Max Reynard would never be so weak. Had she just been played?
“Ness?” Max was frowning. “What do you think? Can we work together?”
His question was enough to jolt her out of her haze of desire and back to reality. This ability of his to switch so swiftly from passion to business was exactly what she needed to bear in mind. None of what had just happened had meant anything to him. It was all just another game and, like a fool, she’d very nearly fallen for it.
“Nice try, Max,” she said, “but the answer’s no.”
His eyes narrowed. “No to which question?”
Her head was still spinning from his kiss, and no matter how hard she tried Ness couldn’t order her thoughts. Max Reynard turned her world to quicksand; everything she’d thought she knew was suddenly uncertain.
“All of them,” she cried. “All of them, OK?”
And then, before he had any chance to try changing her mind – or, even worse, to touch her again and weaken her resolve – Ness spun on her heel and tore away, leaving her bag, her towel and Max Reynard behind.
She’d never sell Pirran Island to him. Never. No matter what he offered or how hard he tried to convince her.
And, more importantly, she certainly wouldn’t be kissing him again. She wouldn’t be able to trust herself if she let that happen.
Chapter 23
The following Monday found Ness in London, doing her best to negotiate Piccadilly in a thunderstorm. By the time she stood dripping in the foyer of Ambrose Investments, Ness was cold, fed up and longing for St Antonia. Things here were just so complicated and the British weather made it all twenty times harder. All she wanted to do was see Stephen’s father and discuss an investment opportunity. Looking as though she’d swum here from Cornwall hadn’t been part of the plan.
The offices of Ambrose Investments were on the fifth floor of a smart tower block situated just one street back from Green Park (and conveniently close to the Ritz, should any investors wish to pop over for afternoon tea). As she took the lift, Ness did her best to dry her face and hair with a tissue, although the handkerchief was soon disintegrating faster than her earlier belief that coming here might be a good i
dea. A glance in the mirrored interior made her wail. She looked even more of a mess than she’d imagined. Her mascara had run and her carefully styled hair was now a riot of tight, springy curls. The cream linen shift dress she’d purchased in St Pirran and which had looked so chic hanging on its padded hanger was limp and creased from her long journey. She looked distinctly out of place in this building, with its smart-suited, briefcase-carrying occupants. Small wonder the reception staff had looked a little surprised when Jonathan Ambrose had confirmed he was meeting her.
Ness’s mind wandered back to her kiss with Max. It had unnerved Ness because it was the closest she’d ever come to losing control. When it came to him she was weak. Max knew that now, which made the situation doubly dangerous. He’d do his best to persuade her to his way of thinking and would stop at nothing to own the island. With her finances vulnerable and the future of the place more uncertain than even Max could guess, Ness had realised that she had to take action. And fast. Fern’s concert was gathering momentum, Lucy had done a sterling job of resurrecting the tea room, and Adam had been a godsend too. He’d shored up the worst of the damage, but he needed a team and serious amounts of money just to keep the buildings as they were, never mind restore them. The only real solution was to borrow from someone.
As she’d lain awake in her tower room, trying her best not to relive Max’s kiss, Ness had made a desperate attempt to come up with a solution. The only answer she could find was approaching a venture capitalist who might be willing to invest in something a standard bank might find too risky. Ness had seen TV programmes like Dragons’ Den and Shark Tank, in which people put forward their business proposals to potential investors, but she didn’t have time to audition for shows; nor did she have the inclination to give away fifty percent of her inheritance in exchange for a few pounds and some ideas. She needed big money and good terms, and there was only one person who might be able to help: Jonathan Ambrose, the father of her ex-boyfriend Stephen.
As Ness took a seat in the plush reception area of Jonathan’s headquarters, she reflected that this was probably the longest long shot ever in the entire history of long shots. Things hadn’t ended particularly well between her and Stephen – which had been more to do with his inability to stay faithful than anything else – and there was no reason why his father should harbour any kind thoughts towards her. In fact Ness had only met Jonathan Ambrose a handful of times when he’d visited St Antonia to meet with his attorneys. Ness’s acquaintance with him hadn’t strayed beyond a few brunch trips out on the obligatory flash boat. He’d been polite and chatted to her about the diving, but that had been about the extent of it. On several occasions Ness had caught him watching Stephen, who was usually necking champagne or showing off in his own boat, with something approaching exasperation. When their gazes had met, she’d known that Jonathan wouldn’t be surprised when she called it off. Which she had done, of course. All the same, blood was thicker than water and there was no knowing what kind of reception she’d receive today. Ness exhaled slowly to steady her nerves. That she’d got this far had to be a good sign, surely?
“Mr Ambrose will see you now,” announced the immaculate receptionist.
Still feeling like she’d been dragged through a hedge backwards, Ness stood up and walked towards the office. She hoped she didn’t look as terrified as she felt.
“Nessa! What a wonderful surprise!”
If Jonathan Ambrose was taken aback by her dishevelled appearance he was far too polite to say so. Instead, he strode across the deep-piled carpet and kissed Ness soundly on each cheek, before stepping back and regarding her with sharp eyes. He was tall like his son, but his once blond hair was now a thick grey pelt and – unlike Stephen, who worked out obsessively – Jonathan’s generous waistline suggested that long lunches and fine wines were his thing rather than hitting the gym.
“You look as ravishing as ever,” he was saying now. “My son was an idiot to ever let you go.”
“He didn’t let me go. I left him,” Ness said, before she could stop herself. Immediately, her hand flew to her mouth. Nice work, Nessa. Just remind him you dumped the son and heir. Why not tell him he’s put on weight too? Really insult him?
But luckily Jonathan seemed to find this comment amusing.
“So you did, and good for you. Did Stephen good to have someone stand up to him for once,” he said approvingly. “Boy’s spoilt rotten and it’s probably all my fault, but I imagine a smart young woman like you figured that out a long time ago.”
It wasn’t a question, so Ness was spared the awkwardness of having to think of a tactful reply. Instead, he motioned for her to take one of the big leather seats that was positioned opposite his enormous desk. Ness sat down. It felt a bit like being summoned into the headmaster’s office; she realised her hands were shaking.
Jonathan Ambrose lowered himself into the even bigger chair opposite and steepled his fingers beneath his chin. A signet ring cut into the flesh of the little finger on his left hand.
“So, pleasant as it is to see you again, I gather this isn’t a social call?”
Ness shook her head. “I’ve got a business proposition for you.”
The grey head was inclined in affirmation. “I thought that might be the case. Well, we’ve all seen Dragon’s Den, so you know what happens next.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “This is the part where you give me your pitch.”
Ness reached into her bag and pulled out a sheaf of paperwork that she’d prepared. Lucy’s ancient printer had managed to choke out some faint type and the pictures she’d taken of the castle were printed too, albeit in lurid colours that made the place look rather like a migraine – but hopefully it would give him an idea of what her primary asset was. While he flicked through all this, his face devoid of any reaction, Ness explained her situation and what she was proposing. Then, once she’d talked herself to a standstill, Jonathan Ambrose gathered the paperwork into a neat stack and set it down on the desk.
“Nessa, this is a very simple one from my point of view. You have real estate of significant value but in a huge state of disrepair and haemorrhaging money at an alarming rate. You say you urgently need a quarter of a million pounds to get the place fixed and to a point where it can begin to earn some kind of an income. Correct?”
“Yes,” Ness said. Her mouth felt dry. She could hardly believe she was asking to borrow a quarter of a million pounds when she’d never even had a credit card and didn’t like to go into overdraft either. Unlike Addy, who’d been constantly on the run from bailiffs, Ness had a horror of debt.
“You’re a smart woman,” Stephen’s father said. “You know that the risk for us is very small. That’s not a large amount of capital for us to lend and, unlike you, we have no emotional attachment to the property. You’ve shown me a business plan, of sorts, and I have no doubt that all those ideas could be successful, given time. The eco hotel and diving school, for instance, are particularly attractive possibilities.”
Ness stared at him. “You’re saying yes?”
“I’m saying that this is certainly something I can sanction in principle,” he agreed. “However, you need to be fully aware of what it would mean for you. If you fail to meet the terms of your loan with Ambrose Investments then I’m afraid you’ll have an uncomfortable choice to make. You’ll either have to sell the property in order to pay us back, or throw us the keys, walk away and let us deal with it.”
“But if I can generate enough income to repay the loan in full with interest then we’re quits,” Ness shot back.
“Yes,” Jonathan said smoothly, “that would be the preferable option for you, of course. We’d give you a three-month window before you’d have to start paying interest on the loan, and we’ll talk terms that suit both parties.”
Ness’s brain was whirling. Three months. It was June now, so the loan repayments wouldn’t begin until the end of September. She could get the repairs done before the winter storms, raise some money and buy them some time
. It was doable. If she didn’t take this risk she’d lose the castle anyway.
“It sounds good to me,” she said.
“Are you sure?” Jonathan leaned back in his seat and regarded her sternly. “Be certain this is what you really want and that you can take the risk. If you can’t service the loan you’ll only end up having to sell anyway, and probably for less money. It might be wisest to sell the property now. You’ve written in your supporting statement that you’ve already had an offer of eight million. Perhaps you ought to accept?”
“No way!” Ness was incensed and her red curls bounced in indignation. “I’m not selling to Max Reynard. Never!”
Jonathan Ambrose was instantly on alert, like a gun dog scenting game. “Max Reynard made that offer? The CEO of Reynard Developments?”
“Yes,” said Ness.
He whistled. “You do know they call him Midas in the City?”
Ness didn’t. Personally she preferred to call him an underhand, cunning, Machiavellian git, but that was her choice. Still, mentioning Max had certainly made Jonathan Ambrose sit up.
“Max never misses a trick,” he told Ness. “If he sees that property as being worth eight million you can triple the value by the time he’s finished with it. In fact you can probably quadruple it.”
Ness had suspected as much. All his talk about restoring the place and saving it was a pack of lies. The only thing Max cared about was profit. She shouldn’t be surprised but she was oddly disappointed.
“So, as you say, the risk to Ambrose Investments is very low and the opportunity to make money is high,” she said. “Do we have a deal, Mr Ambrose?”
She held out her hand. It was still trembling, but from a surge of adrenalin rather than fear now. She could do this! She knew she could. With the funding agreed they could afford to hire Adam and a specialised team to fix the castle, as well as refurbishing the tea room and perhaps doing bed and breakfast. The possibilities were endless.
The Island Legacy Page 27
