Kept by the Spanish Billionaire

by Cathy Williams

  ‘So if you’re not a squatter, then who are you?’

  I just own the company you work for, Rafael was tempted to inform her. It didn’t surprise him that the woman had failed to recognise him. As she was a member of the ‘forgotten crew’, he suspected that whatever job she did would be fairly low profile and definitely out of sight. It had to be said that he was also rarely in London, choosing to oversee things from New York, and judging from her accent she was definitely one hundred per cent Londoner.

  ‘I’m the…gardener,’ Rafael improvised.

  ‘And you live here?’

  ‘Where else would you expect me to live?’

  ‘In a small, average house on a small, average estate somewhere fairly close by…like any other normal gardener…’

  ‘In case it missed you, this isn’t exactly a small, normal garden. It’s a full-time job, hence my residence on the grounds.’

  ‘And your staff come in every day to mow the lawns…’ That made a bit more sense because she couldn’t really picture him pushing a mower himself. He didn’t look the type, although if his body was anything to go by he had no end of muscular brawn at his disposal. No, he definitely looked more the sort to give orders and, furthermore, to enjoy giving orders. She felt immediate sympathy for his absent staff.

  ‘Mow the lawns…keep the gardens in check…do whatever needs doing…’

  ‘And you control the whip.’ It was said in a light-hearted tone of voice, but of course he refused to crack a smile, prompting her to enquire whether a lack of a sense of humour was part of his job description.

  Amy liked people with a sense of fun. She came from a sprawling family of six children and, like most children from large families, she had never had much experience with the concept of privacy. She enjoyed sharing. She laughed easily. She liked to have a good time. It was one of the many things about James that she found so attractive. His wicked sense of fun.

  This man on the other hand was the epitome of grim-faced seriousness.

  ‘Are you always so…serious?’ she asked, looking at him, but not for too long because he really was very sexy indeed, if you went for the brooding kind of man. Which she didn’t.

  Rafael, unaccustomed as he was to being spoken to like this, was temporarily lost for words and in the brief silence Amy carried on blithely.

  ‘I mean…what have you got to be grim about? You live in a fantastic place, paid for by your employer. And I bet you also have lots of other perks that go with the house.’

  ‘Perks?’

  ‘Sure.’ She tabulated them on her fingers, one at a time. ‘Car. Hiding in a garage somewhere, I expect, and probably not any old banger. Pension plan. End-of-year bonuses. Am I right?’ The tiredness that had seen her stepping out of the house for a breath of fresh air, then wandering much further than she had intended, seemed to have disappeared.

  ‘I can tell from your silence that I’m right!’ she said triumphantly. ‘Lucky old you.’

  Rafael did not intend to be drawn into any conversation with a dippy blonde who had managed to stray out of her depth. He opened his mouth to tell her politely, but firmly, that it was time for her to leave.

  ‘Why do you say that?’ he heard himself ask and she shot him a wide, infectious grin.

  ‘Because I do a similar sort of thing and I certainly don’t have the great perks that you do.’

  ‘You’re a…gardener?’

  ‘Caterer.’

  ‘And catering is similar to gardening?’

  ‘Well, we both work with our hands and are creative with it…so, yes…pretty much, wouldn’t you agree?’

  ‘I can’t say that there’s anything creative about gardening.’

  Amy looked at him in surprise. Again, she was struck by the force of his physical presence, which, she told herself with a little inner laugh, was just silly. ‘Then why do you do it?’

  Rafael gave an impatient shrug and ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Look. I’ve humoured you by letting you in and you now know why I’m here. So time for you to go and I’d appreciate it if you could keep my presence here to yourself.’

  ‘Because…?’

  ‘Because I don’t want to be overrun by James’s house guests when I’m trying to do my job.’

  ‘You’re on first names with your boss? Hmm.’ She thought about it for a few seconds, then her face softened. ‘Not surprising really.’

  ‘What’s not surprising?’ Rafael frowned. ‘No. Forget I said that. Have a good time here. I’m sure you will. It’s a beautiful place. Lots to do and explore if you choose to leave the house and pool.’

  He began walking towards the door, not giving her time to continue with her relentless chatter.

  ‘Do you realise we haven’t even exchanged names?’ Amy said, sticking out her hand. ‘I’m Amy.’

  ‘Why should we have exchanged names?’ He pulled open the door and stood back, sticking one hand in the pocket of his cream Bermuda shorts.

  Even at night, the temperatures meant that shorts and tee shirts could be comfortably worn. For Rafael, who lived most of his life in his tailored, handmade suits, a pair of shorts and a faded tee shirt constituted the highest form of luxury.

  ‘That’s very rude.’ Amy withdrew her hand and pulled herself up so that she could fix him with a gimlet eye.

  ‘What’s very rude? You know what? I’m not really all that interested anyway.’ Outside, in the balmy air, a very gentle breeze lifted the breathtakingly blonde curls and made them dance.

  ‘I don’t care whether you’re interested or not! I’m going to tell you anyway! It’s rude to look at someone as though they’ve got a contagious disease when they’re doing nothing more than attempting to introduce themselves! If you don’t want to tell me your name, then that’s fine! It’s no skin off my nose! It’s not as though I’m—’

  ‘Rafael.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Rafael. My name is Rafael Vives.’ He held out his hand and as Amy took it she felt a strange quiver of awareness dart its way through her body like a sudden, unexpected jolt of electricity, then the feeling was gone.

  ‘I’m Amy.’ As quickly as her temper had surfaced, it was gone. Anger was something she had never been able to hold onto for very long. ‘Rafael…unusual name…Is it…what? Italian?’

  ‘Spanish,’ Rafael said abruptly. ‘Will you be able to find your way back to the house?’

  ‘Oh, yes? How did a Spanish gardener come to be working in America?’ She fished into a pocket, pulled out an elastic band and expertly tied her hair back into a loose pony tail.

  ‘Buy yourself a potted history guide book, speed read it and you’ll discover how we Spaniards managed to find our way over here. Now off you go.’

  ‘You’re very arrogant, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I am, and now that we’ve cleared that up you can be on your way.’

  To his relief she took the hint and for a few seconds he watched her head off, pause, glance around her, head off, but this time in a different direction. Her antics would have been amusing had he not known that sooner or later he would have to point her in the right direction. The grounds to the house were extensive and the verdant lawns were interspersed with grassy dunes and dense trees. There was even a tiered pond with a waterfall set in richly colourful gardens. When you knew the property, you knew easily how to find your way around, but to the uninitiated it could be bewildering, especially in the dark. And the guest cottage, which had been indeed built to house the head of the domestic staff when the house had been fully utilised, was not easy to find.

  With a deeply impatient sigh, Rafael fetched the key, slammed the door behind him and caught up with her as she veered off on her fourth aborted attempt to locate the right way back.

  He circled his hand around her arm and ushered her in the opposite direction.

  ‘Good God, woman! Where’s your sense of direction?’

  ‘I would have found my way eventually! And do you mi
nd letting me go? You’re not a policeman and I’m not under arrest!’

  ‘I’m just making sure that I get you off my property!’

  ‘Your property? That’s a bit rich considering you’re only the gardener! I know the gardens are unusually big so you must be an unusually important gardener, but hey! You’re just still a gardener!’

  ‘Do you ever shut up?’ Rafael muttered under his breath.

  ‘Are you ever polite?’ He still had his hand wrapped around her arm like a steel clamp and Amy had given up on trying to shake him off. ‘It’s not my fault these grounds are so big! Well, actually, it is kind of my fault. I suppose I could have stayed put at the house with everyone else.’

  ‘Yes. That you could have done. Why didn’t you?’ She was very slight. Her arm felt fragile in his hand. He imagined that if he were to ever pick her up, she wouldn’t weigh a thing. He released her and shoved his hands in his pockets.

  ‘I was tired.’ She shrugged. ‘Normally I’m up for any party but I just fancied a little bit of time on my own.’

  ‘There was a party going on when you left?’ Rafael’s ears pricked up. ‘What kind of party?’

  ‘Oh, the usual. Loud music. People passing out in the flower beds. Skinny-dipping in the pool.’

  Rafael spun her around to face him. ‘You’re kidding, aren’t you? I would have heard if there was loud music. It’s a still night.’

  Amy looked up at him in astonishment and then burst out laughing. ‘Of course there was no party, Mr Gardener! I just meant that, after the “getting to know you” over the cocktails, I decided that a little walk in the garden might wake me up! It was all perfectly civilised. The flower beds are all still intact, in case that was what you were worried about.’

  ‘Of course I wasn’t worried about the damned flower beds!’

  ‘Then you don’t take your job as seriously as you should!’ Amy chided teasingly. ‘Anyway, why on earth should you care whether James has a party up at the house or not? It’s not really your business, is it?’

  ‘If you peer into the distance you can see the lights of the house. Follow them.’

  ‘You mean you won’t do the gentlemanly thing and walk me to the front door? And before you start glowering, it was just a joke. Do you ever get lonely?’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Do you ever get lonely? You know…stuck up there on your own from dawn to dusk…’

  ‘What makes you think that I’m stuck there on my own?’ Rafael couldn’t resist asking. Even without benefit of light, he could see the embarrassed surprise on her face. ‘Don’t you think that there’s a woman who wouldn’t mind helping while away the occasional lonely night?’ he drawled.

  Amy could feel hot colour flood her cheeks as she struggled to find a suitably composed reply. Eventually she stammered, clearing her throat, ‘Well, you just seemed to overreact to the idea of a party, so I thought that maybe…perhaps you…’

  ‘Perhaps I was a complete bore who enjoyed nothing more than pruning the rose bushes while pouring scorn on other people’s good times?’

  ‘No, of course not!’

  ‘I know how to enjoy myself, little Amy.’

  The way he said that sent shivers running up and down her spine. From somewhere, she managed to dredge up the image of James, smiling, blond-haired James with his teasing blue eyes and ready grin, and just about managed to ward off the more disturbing one of Rafael the arrogant gardener in bed with a woman who wanted to help him while away a lonely night.

  ‘I just don’t happen to be a party animal. Drinking myself into a stupor has never held much appeal.’

  Rescued from her sudden, acute embarrassment and over-active imagination, Amy was happy to be diverted back to her healthy opinion of him as an arrogant bore.

  ‘No, I could tell.’ His body language was letting her know in no uncertain terms that he couldn’t particularly care less what she thought of him, but Amy couldn’t seem to let it go. Arrogant bore or not, there was something curiously fascinating about him. ‘You’ve probably never been to a really good party’ she said, consolingly. ‘It’s not all about drinking yourself into a stupor. It’s about good company and good music and lots of dancing.’

  She grinned at him, amused at his expression of distaste. ‘Which bit of that do you find off-putting?’

  ‘The bit that reeks of excess,’ Rafael told her coolly.

  ‘Which is where you’re in danger of going unless you clear off. I’m sure, as the party animal that you are, you don’t set much store on privacy, but I do and I would appreciate it if you respected that and stayed away from my property. Think you can understand that?’

  Amy felt sudden tears of hurt prick the backs of her eyes and she nodded. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said in a small voice, which made him feel like a monster.

  Rafael gave her a curt nod and turned away. It was bad enough having to take time out when there were a million things that urgently needed doing without finding his precious time further usurped by a trail of unwanted explorers making the most of their bonus week off.

  When he eventually turned around to make sure that she was walking in the right direction, she had disappeared.

  CHAPTER TWO

  THINGS had been laid on.

  Amy woke early the following morning, drifted downstairs and discovered, to her surprise considering James’s casual personality, that their days had been mapped out and planned with military efficiency.

  Several others were likewise up and in the dining room, which had been laid out for breakfast buffet style.

  On one wall was a large notice board indicating the activities in store for them that day, should they wish to avail themselves of it.

  From behind her, Claire, her closest friend at the house, tapped her on the shoulder and giggled something about how the other half lived and that they should tuck into breakfast because not having to prepare it themselves was a luxury that wouldn’t rear its head again in a hurry.

  ‘Darn right!’ Amy laughed back, easily slipping into the fun-loving girl her friends all knew and appreciated. It wasn’t long before she had joined some of the others, happily allowing herself to be swept up in the excitement of planning which events they were going to try out later on.

  Of course, there was always the option of staying put, which some of them intended to do, but there would also be an opportunity to go kayaking and canoeing. For the lazier of them, fishing was an option, as well as a chance to explore some of the beaches, which would involve picnics and swimming.

  Amy wondered which, if any, James would be going to. He was nowhere to be seen, but when he did appear she intended to get herself noticed in a way she had yet to do.

  Thus far, she had always been the very good caterer at work, always decked out in her boring white outfit and caterer’s hat. It was the least sexy outfit possible to don. Not that Amy considered herself to be the centrefold of a magazine, but she had a friendly personality and many people had told her that she was quite cute.

  Well, cute could work. She had tied her hair back into two braids that reached just past her shoulders, a touch-and-go hairstyle as far as attracting the opposite sex went but very practical in hot weather. Her blue and white top was jaunty and her jeans were, she thought, just the right side of trendy. Very skinny-fitting and just right with the flat, beaded silver shoes that she could kick off if need be or walk a hundred miles if she had to.

  ‘Which tour do you think he’s going to be on?’ she whispered to Claire, as soon as they had sat down in front of plates that were groaning with a ridiculous amount of food. ‘I’ve dressed the part.’ She thought, briefly and unexpectedly, of the arrogant gardener she had bumped into the previous night. She imagined he would give her one of those ice-cold looks were he to see her in her get-up. For a second she was tempted to let Claire into the little secret, but she held her tongue, remembering the way he had told her to keep his presence on the ground to herself.

  ‘What part?�
� Claire grinned. She was as plump and dark as Amy was fair and slender, but they had hit it off the minute they had met two years previously and were still the best of friends.

  ‘The part that’s not covered up in a white uniform with neat white plimsolls and a hairnet. A hairnet! Do you think he’ll notice me?’

  ‘He always notices you,’ Claire said, prompted into automatic support.

  ‘Yes, well. He chats and laughs but he does that with everyone!’ She skewered a piece of fresh pineapple on her fork, inspected it and popped it into her mouth. ‘I wonder which exciting little tour he’ll be on.’

  Claire watched her friend drift off into some pleasant daydream land and bit back the instinct to protect her from hurt by telling her how she really felt—that James liked her well enough but that was as far as it went. She was pretty sure that he really would never actually have a relationship with someone who worked for him anyway, because wouldn’t that be against some company law? But even if he could have, he joked with her the way a guy joked with a woman he thought of as a mate. She should know. That had been her fate for long enough!

  ‘Just enjoy yourself, Ames, and forget about James. He’ll be at the barbecue tonight anyway!’

  And as it turned out the tight-fitting jeans and the jaunty top had been in vain. James had gone off fishing for the day, bonding with some of the junior lads in the marketing department. The outfit, furthermore, had been a serious impediment when it came to kayaking and by the time four o’clock rolled round and they were all trooping wearily back to the house Amy was more than a little disconsolate.

  What was she doing? She was twenty-four years old and was committing the unforgivable sin of throwing herself at someone with the desperation of an ageing spinster under threat of being left on the shelf! It was ridiculous. She was ridiculous!