Ruiz showed no shame, Holly concluded. ‘You’re going to leave Bouncer at the penthouse I’ve been cautiously tiptoeing around. May I remind you that Bouncer has a huge fluffy tail and four big feet?’
‘Your feet are lovely,’ Ruiz observed, completely taking the wind out of her sails.
He wasn’t supposed to say things like that and sound as if he meant it. Now all she could think about was the fact that she hadn’t put shoes on because she’d been in too much of a hurry to speak to Ruiz before he went out.
Concentrate, Holly told herself fiercely as Ruiz curved a questioning smile. There was no point giving him any more satisfaction than she already had. ‘What you’re suggesting,’ she hissed in a low, urgent voice as if Bouncer could understand them, ‘is a licence for carnage.’ Couldn’t she create enough of that on her own? Holly reasoned. She was just recoiling from the mental image of the type of carnage Bouncer could create when The Idea dropped in.
No one said it was going to arrive at the most convenient time, Holly reasoned as Ruiz began to frown. ‘What now?’ she prompted.
‘I was just thinking that it’s not like you to be silent for so long. You are feeling okay, aren’t you?’ Holly’s warning look only succeeded in making Ruiz’s eyes glow a little brighter. ‘Anyway,’ he added offhandedly, ‘I’m going out.’
But she wanted to float her idea. ‘No, wait.’
‘Missing me already?’ Ruiz suggested with maximum irony.
‘Not one bit,’ she snapped. ‘In fact, please don’t feel you must hurry back.’
This provoked a crooked smile that lodged attractively in Ruiz’s stubble-darkened cheek. ‘I love it when a plan comes together, don’t you?’ he said. And when Holly gritted her teeth in order not to say something she would regret, he added, ‘I understand you’d probably like a little time to prepare yourself properly for my return.’
‘Prepare myself properly?’ Holly exploded. ‘Who do you think you are? The Sheikh of Araby? I was merely pondering the possibility of doing some work without any further interruption,’ she assured him primly.
‘Oh, come on, Holly,’ Ruiz murmured. ‘You and I both know that too much work and no play will make you a very dull girl indeed. See you after the gym?’ he said, his eyes dark and dangerous.
‘I can’t wait,’ Holly called after him sarcastically. Living with a playboy wouldn’t be easy, but at least Ruiz had given her The Idea.
Bravo! Holly-the-journalist!
Except … there was one small problem. She already knew Ruiz didn’t like Holly poking her nose into his business.
But what was he going to do—refuse her offer to dog-sit in London while he was playing polo in Argentina? She didn’t think so. She’d seen the glint in Ruiz’s eyes. He’d gone in hard, thinking she would quickly fall into line. He had expected her to offer to help him in any way she could. Well, she might—on one condition that Ruiz helped her too. He must give her some titbits to write about. If he did, living with a playboy might not be so bad after all. In fact, it might just save her bacon. The column she had in mind would be an observational piece—meaning she could safely witness the life of a playboy while remaining at a prudent distance. This would be like confronting her demons from behind a screen. To save her career she would lift the lid on living with a playboy for her readers. Why shouldn’t everyone else laugh at her trials and tribulations? She did.
Slinging his gym bag over his shoulder, he left his luggage in the hall and stormed out of the penthouse. The only solution, Ruiz had concluded, was to pound his way out of frustration. Having been knocked for six—or was that sex?—by the sight of Holly with her glorious redgold hair streaming around her shoulders like a gleaming cape, Holly half naked with her creamy flesh just visible above the robe, he was painfully threatening to burst out of his jeans. In that respect, she had exceeded his expectations. Truthfully? He had never felt like this before. If Holly had been staying in Lucia’s garden apartment he could have just about coped, but having her stay with him at the penthouse only yards from his bed?
Gritting his teeth, Ruiz lifted his own body weight above his head, but nothing helped to blank out the voluptuous woman waiting for him back at the penthouse. And hard as he tried he could find no solution to the problem. He wouldn’t touch a friend of Lucia’s. He couldn’t eject a friend of Lucia’s from the penthouse, either. So must he put his own life on hold? He could hardly entertain while Holly was in residence. Lowering the bar slowly back into its cups, he made a silent pledge not to go near her. He could only hope for Holly’s sake that she found somewhere else to live as soon as she could.
He had left Bouncer with the girls on Reception where his faithful hound was sure to get a spoiling. The dog bounded up to him, seeming as excited as he was at the prospect of returning home.
Not excited, Ruiz told himself firmly. Certainly not excited to get back to the penthouse and find Holly waiting for him. It had been a long, hard day, and when he opened the door on what was supposed to be a luxurious hideaway in the best part of London, there would be girl stuff everywhere. No doubt the kitchen would be a mess, and, having seen the state of the hall, he had no doubt Holly would have trialled every bathroom by the time he got back, strewing damp towels all over the place. All he longed for was a good night’s sleep, but with a big dog to care for checking into a hotel was out of the question. The penthouse, with its stunning views of London and seductive luxury, should have been perfect, and it might have been, had he not had an unexpected—and frustratingly unsettling—lodger to entertain.
Okay, so he’d set some ground rules.
‘Come on, Bouncer,’ Ruiz prompted, snapping the leash onto the dog’s collar. ‘Let’s get this over with.’
CHAPTER THREE
Research. And that’s all it would be. I wouldn’t be breaking rule two—no men. I would simply be observing this man from a purely clinical point of view. My ‘Living with a Playboy’ idea would be like one of those fly-on-the-wall documentaries. I wouldn’t be hands-on—I should be so lucky. More, all hands to the pump—gulp—as I try to do my bit to save the agony-aunt column. (Though I can’t deny the thought of living so close to this particular playboy has done wonders for my metabolic rate. I’ve eaten a whole tub of double chocolate chip in anticipation of his return and I can still get into my jeans.)
(Imagine how slim I’d be if we lived together permanently.)
(Not that I’d ever consider living with anyone after my experience with the ex.)
Love life? Vicarious. Active. Very active indeed. Lustful thoughts? Are there any other kind?
And the playboy? This might all be over by tomorrow. He didn’t exactly seem thrilled to see me, and I have yet to discover how he feels when he returns from the gym to find I’m still here.
HAVING finished her London diary entry, Holly was still tinkering with her first ‘Living with a Playboy’ feature when Ruiz arrived back. The new headline looked fabulous on the top of the agony-aunt column. If that didn’t attract reader interest, nothing would.
She listened as Ruiz went into one of the bathrooms to take a shower and tried her hardest not to imagine him stripped naked. That proved a lot harder than she’d thought. The secret of successful cohabiting was not getting in Ruiz’s way, Holly concluded, tensing as the shower turned off. If she was going to make a success of the ‘Living with a Playboy’ feature, she had to make sure Ruiz didn’t think of her as a nuisance, always watching him and asking questions. She wasn’t in any danger, she told herself repeatedly, counting the seconds until he entered the room, since she had vowed off men, and anyway there was no chance Ruiz would look at her that way. The main thing was not to give him an excuse to throw her out if she was going to make him the subject of her column.
Buttering-up time had arrived. While he’d been gone she had tidied away all her things and knocked up a tasty soup, using the fresh ingredients she had bought earlier. She’d also made sure there was plenty of ice for the large gin and tonic
she guessed a sophisticated man like Ruiz might want, and had even put on some make-up—not very expertly, and certainly not enough to suggest she was after him. She hoped that assuming the role of unthreatening temporary lodger might work. She would even play housekeeper at a stretch. She’d do anything to salvage her career. She’d even iron a few shirts if she had to. She couldn’t see any man objecting to that. Whatever it took for Ruiz to agree to become the subject of her column, Holly told herself tensely, flinging herself down in front of her laptop when she heard him advancing on the kitchen.
Living with a Playboy
Well, here I am, living the dream—or nightmare—not sure which it’s going to be yet. I should know more if I survive these next few minutes.
I don’t think I could have engineered living with a playboy. Who could, unless they wanted to be a rich man’s plaything? And I can’t say that’s ever appealed to me. But I will do my best to keep a roof over my head until I can make alternative arrangements. I don’t particularly like myself for being so cold-blooded about this, but it’s the only solution I can see to keep my job right now.
To make up for my scheming I’m going to be the best housemate anyone could have—at least, that’s what I keep telling myself. But the first time the playboy brings home a playmate I’m guessing I might show another side of myself altogether. It’s not that I’m interested in him, and he certainly isn’t interested in me. This is all in the line of duty, and—
Lowering the lid on her laptop, Holly arranged her face in a welcoming smile and stood up to greet Ruiz. Enter Ruiz: dark, glowering, massively powerful, and stunningly attractive. ‘Hello,’ Holly said brightly. ‘I hope you had a good session at the gym?’
As Ruiz angled his head slightly to stare at her Holly realised she would never be able to keep this up. Faced by so much pumped and bulging muscle and with his thick black hair still damp from his shower, she knew she couldn’t live with Ruiz as a passive observer without going completely off her head. ‘Drink?’ she enquired. Was that piping voice really hers? ‘Gin and tonic, perhaps …?’
‘A beer would be good.’
‘Beer it is, then.’
‘You’re unusually compliant, Holly,’ Ruiz observed, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
She made a dismissive gesture. ‘I’m just feeling a little guilty that I didn’t make the connection between you and Lucia right away. When we first met at the café?’ she prompted.
‘I didn’t make the connection either,’ Ruiz pointed out. ‘And Lucia told you what exactly about her brothers?’
Holly blushed. The thought of even the smallest part of what Lucia had told her about her brothers was enough to make the hair stand up on the back of her neck. ‘You must be stressed out and tired,’ she said to change the subject, ‘and frustrated that you haven’t got the private space you anticipated, but—’
‘Breathe,’ Ruiz suggested dryly.
Ruiz’s dark gaze washed over her in a way that made her bones melt. She had dressed carefully—demurely—on purpose, Holly realised now, in a pair of baggy jeans and a shapeless old shirt, so as not to draw attention. She suspected Ruiz knew exactly what she’d done, and that he also knew she was suffering a very female response to his extremely masculine assessment.
‘Where’s that beer you promised me?’
Maybe this subservient domestic goddess role was going to be a little harder than she thought, Holly reflected, realising she was still gazing at Ruiz. ‘Coming right up,’ she said, forcing her feet to walk away.
Her hands were shaking by the time she got to the fridge and her heart was beating like Thor’s hammer. How on earth was this going to play out? Her bright idea of making a column out of living with a playboy didn’t seem so clever now. Being sneaky didn’t suit her, and a high-flyer like Ruiz would hardly want Holly sharing details of his private life with the general public. But she had to live somewhere. She had to earn a living. And this was the best, the only idea she had come up with to date.
‘Thank you.’ His gaze lingered on Holly as he took the beer. He’d run the shower on its lowest setting to try and knock some sense into his head, but innocence was a potent drug. He noticed her hands were shaking and guessed Holly was still reeling from the messy relationship Lucia had told him about and didn’t trust her judgment where men were concerned. No problem for him. He could resist the lure of an unexpected visitor, however attractive she might be.
‘Are you hungry, Ruiz?’
The punch to his solar plexus when she turned to look at him caught him by surprise. ‘Starving.’
‘You’re in a better mood since you got back from the gym,’ she observed as she vigorously stirred the soup.
‘Yes, dear,’ he mocked her lightly.
‘And here was me thinking you might have knocked some of that frustration out of your system at the gym.’ She blushed and stopped talking abruptly, but he knew she was referring to his ill-tempered arrival at the penthouse.
Lifting the bottle in a toast to her back, he drank it down. He had dressed casually after his shower in a pair of jeans and an old, faded blue sweatshirt, which he felt comfortable in around the house. Holly was barefoot in jeans and a pale blue shirt, which he found both casual and appealing. She was wearing hardly any make-up and had a tea towel tucked into the waistband of her jeans like someone who loved cooking and didn’t care who knew it. She looked great. The pale blue shirt suited her, and he had to try very hard not to notice that it was straining over her breasts.
‘Sure soup is going to be enough for you?’ she asked, avoiding his gaze.
‘For now.’
Opening the fridge, he found it stocked with fresh ingredients and a line of cold beer. ‘Soup smells good,’ he observed, joining Holly at the cooker. ‘I usually call for take-away when I’m in London, unless I’m eating out—’ He was staring at the back of her neck, longing to drop kisses on it. She had brushed her hair to one side, leaving the soft skin temptingly exposed, and he was standing close enough to see it had the texture of a peach. ‘Are you sure you want to share your supper?’ he murmured, thinking of anything but soup.
‘I can’t drink the whole pan full myself.’ She turned to stare at him.
‘I’ll get some spoons,’ he said, breaking away first, knowing that if he didn’t he would have to take her to bed.
‘I’m sorry for our rocky start this evening, Ruiz. I hope the soup makes up for it.’
‘I’m sorry too,’ he said. ‘I was hardly Señor Charming earlier.’ She was a friend of his sister’s, he told himself sternly. It was his duty to be nice to her. Equally, it was his duty not to seduce her. ‘Why don’t we forget it and start over? Minestrone.’ He hummed with appreciation. ‘My favourite.’
‘Really?’ She seemed surprised. ‘I had you down as more of a vichyssoise man.’
‘Oh, please. Do you think I have my newspapers ironed before I read them too?’
‘I’ll be sure to be up early enough to do so, sir.’
‘Be sure you are,’ he teased, holding the emerald gaze until her cheeks flushed red.
A friend of his sister’s? His good intentions where Holly was concerned weren’t holding up too well, Ruiz concluded, registering the pressure in his jeans. ‘Hurry up, I’m hungry,’ he commanded mock-sternly, hoping that by adopting the role of master of the house he would distract them both.
Holly smiled and shook her head. ‘Do you treat all your staff like this?’
‘My staff?’ he queried.
‘The people you pay to do things for you,’ she teased him.
‘Was that supposed to be a joke?’ he countered, finding he couldn’t bring himself to avoid the extraordinary green gaze and that he really didn’t want to.
‘What do you think?’ She laughed.
‘I think you like living dangerously, Ms Valiant,’ he said quietly.
Holly’s smile died. He got the distinct impression that this brush with a man who really liked her was too much too soon f
or Holly. ‘Do you think Bouncer would like some soup?’ she asked him in a decidedly humourless tone.
‘If you sprinkle cheese on it I doubt he could refuse,’ he said, matching Holly for matter-of-factness. This was like trying to win the trust of a damaged pony. He couldn’t lay his cards on the table—tell her she was beautiful and that he wanted her. He had to earn her trust and wait for Holly to come to him. She was graceful, he thought as she dipped low to feed the dog. She was kind and gentle and funny too. This was proving to be an unexpected distraction and he was enjoying tonight more than he could possibly have imagined.
‘I realise this must be awkward for you,’ she began as she straightened up.
‘Awkward?’ he queried.
‘Living together like this,’ she explained. ‘I’m not exactly experienced when it comes to flatmates.’
He doubted she was experienced in any sense. ‘Don’t worry. You won’t be seeing a lot of me.’
She laughed. ‘Can I have that in writing, please?’
‘And when I’m here I promise to keep out of your way,’ he added.
‘That’s all I need to know,’ she said, but her darkening eyes told a different story.
As they settled down to drink the soup together either side of the kitchen table it occurred to him that, as Lucia’s friend, Holly was practically an honorary member of the family and so deserving of his protection, which was ironic when what she needed was protection from him.
‘Soup okay, Ruiz?’
‘It’s delicious,’ he said. It was. And when she smiled like that, looking so relieved and happy, he knew that Holly was as oblivious to her talents as she was to her beauty. It was when she cut a fresh slice from the crispy loaf, saying, ‘I like a man with a healthy appetite,’ that he had to reach for the butter and pretend he hadn’t heard what she’d said. ‘Hey, Bouncer.’ He called the dog to draw the spotlight off her. ‘Are you snoring?’ he suggested as the big mutt grunted in his sleep.
‘You’re asking questions of a sleeping dog?’ Holly enquired, watching him chin on hand.
The Shameless Life of Ruiz Acosta Page 4
