She glanced up to see the helicopter hovering over the hacienda. It looked like a giant black hand come to claim its rightful property. Its shadow was like an omen. Descending slowly from the sky, it looked like a malevolent locust as it settled on its widespread skids. It seemed to Rosie to be the clearest signal yet that she had no money, no power, no influence, while Don Xavier Del Rio had a cash register for a heart. What was going to happen to the island if she didn’t stand firm? Why had Doña Anna set them against each other like this? She couldn’t have expected them to work together. Don Xavier would never consider it. Doña Anna hadn’t been exactly noted for her willingness to compromise, and yet that was what she expected them to do.
So was she going to disappoint the woman who had given her a fresh chance in life?
Drawing a deep steadying breath, Rosie smoothed her hair and straightened her dress, ready for her second meeting with Don Xavier.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE KITCHEN DOOR was open so he walked straight in. It smelled clean, but looked shabby. He leaned over the pristine sink to see if the window really was in as much danger of falling out as he’d first thought. He heard a faint noise behind him—just a breath, a slight shift in the air. He turned and she was there.
His good intentions counted for nothing. His body responded instantly to the sight of Rosie Clifton, his groin tightening as blood ripped through his veins. She was so young, so innocent—and so not his type, but it seemed that no argument he could put up could take anything away from her appeal. The low-slanting sun was shining straight into her face. She looked like an angel waiting to fall, in shades of white and gold—and yellow? As she came deeper into the kitchen he took more notice of the dress. It was a hideous dress that must have hung unloved in a thrift shop for years, but on Señorita Clifton it served a very definite purpose, which was to cling to her shapely form with loving attention to detail.
‘Don Xavier,’ she exclaimed in a calm, clear voice, walking forward to greet him.
‘Señorita Clifton.’ His tone was cool.
‘Rosie, please,’ she insisted, forming the words with the kissable lips he hadn’t been able to get out of his mind.
‘Rosie.’ He inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement of her arrival, and then he remained still, waiting for her to come to him.
He could try every trick in the book, but she was never dismayed. The power of her easy-going personality was undeniable. As she extended her tiny hand for him to shake, she tipped up her chin to look him in the eyes, and he felt the force of that stare in his groin, which didn’t just tighten now, but ached with the most urgent need.
‘Welcome to Hacienda de Rio,’ she said with a smile, as if he were the interloper. And then, having realised her mistake, instead of blushing or showing how awkward she surely must feel at the blunder, she put her hand over her mouth and giggled before exclaiming, ‘That was a bit of a clanger, wasn’t it?’
He stared coolly into her eyes, trying to read her. He could read every woman he’d ever met, from the mother who had barely made eye contact with him, to Doña Anna’s scathing and ironic stare, and, after them, the legions of women who knew very well how to flirt with their eyes; they were all transparent to him, but Rosie Clifton was an enigma, and she intrigued him. She was also extremely self-possessed for a girl from nowhere, who had owned nothing but the clothes she stood up in until a few weeks ago.
Seeing the cold suspicion in his eyes, she had taken a step back. Feeling the table behind her legs, she reached behind her to rest her palms on the scrubbed pine surface, making her breasts appear more prominent than ever. Had any other woman done the same thing, he might have wondered if it was an invitation, but Rosie Clifton only succeeded in making herself look younger and more vulnerable than ever. Perhaps that too was a ploy of sorts, he reflected.
‘So, you got here at last?’ she challenged him lightly.
He shrugged. ‘I came as soon as I could.’
She pressed her lips together in a wry, accepting smile. ‘Your aunt mentioned that you’re a workaholic.’
He had forgotten how self-possessed she was. But now there was a faint blush on her face, and her amethyst eyes had darkened. He watched her breathing quicken, displaying the shape of her full breasts quite graphically in the close-fitting dress.
‘This is, of course, as much your home as mine,’ she said candidly.
‘How kind of you to say so.’ He resisted the temptation to state the obvious: that his claim went back a thousand years.
‘You haven’t forgotten the ice cream I promised, have you? I made two flavours.’
Rosie wasn’t sure when she had decided to treat Don Xavier as a normal human being, rather than as an aristocrat with centuries of breeding behind him. They were wildly unequal in every sense, but, as nothing could change that, she had decided to be herself.
Maybe it was the Doña Anna effect, Rosie reflected as she reached for two bowls. In this one precious inheritance Doña Anna had made sure they were equals. The Spanish Grandee and the orphan housekeeper shared a huge responsibility thanks to the way that Doña Anna had drafted her will, but the more Rosie thought about it, the more it seemed to her that Don Xavier’s need for an heir gave her some leverage over him. She had no other power to wield, but he had a schedule to meet, or he would forfeit his fifty per cent of the island to her. Of course, she could just wait him out and hope he couldn’t produce an heir in the time specified, but she had no intention of wasting two years of her life hanging around for that. She wanted to get things moving on the island for the sake of the islanders as soon as she could.
Which, ideally, would mean working together, she thought, deflating somewhat when she caught sight of Don Xavier’s unsmiling face.
Dipping down, she reached into the freezer to pull out the boxes of ice cream. The air in the kitchen seemed to have frozen harder than the ice cream in the tub.
Whatever happened next, she wasn’t going to be railroaded into making any decision that didn’t feel right. She might have everything to learn about being a landowner, but Doña Anna had taught her not to be silent and accepting, but to question everything.
‘Vanilla,’ she announced, prising the lid off the tub. ‘And Doña Anna’s favourite—fresh strawberry. I picked the fruit from the garden this morning—’
‘I haven’t come here to eat ice cream,’ the towering monument to privilege and wealth currently occupying her kitchen coldly stated.
He hadn’t expected Rosie to be so relaxed on this second meeting, Xavier realised. She’d had time to think about things, and must surely realise the hopelessness of her situation. He was stationed at one end of the kitchen table, while she was at the other, and she didn’t seem concerned at all. As she opened a drawer to reach for a serving spoon he put the documents he’d brought with him very prominently on the table.
She didn’t look at them once—or didn’t appear to, but then she baited him with a level stare. ‘These look official,’ she said, moving them out of the way so she could arrange her dishes. ‘They look like the type of papers that won’t bring anyone any happiness. “Beware of lawyers, ” Doña Anna used to tell me. “Trust no one but yourself, Rosie.” So...what flavour would you like?’
He was taken aback for a moment. He had dealt with many difficult situations in business, but nothing like this. ‘What else did Doña Anna warn you about?’
‘Honestly?’ she said, pulling an attractive face as she thought about it for two seconds. ‘Nothing. Not you. Not anything. I think she must have trusted me to get on with things. And at the end, when she was dying, and I knew I was about to lose the best friend I’d ever had, the last thing on my mind was lawyers, or wills.’
He believed her.
‘I’ll look at the documents later,’ she said, ‘if that’s all right with you?’
And if it wasn’t all right with him, she would still look at the documents later, he guessed. In fairness, nothing would bounce him into doing anyth
ing in a hurry, so he couldn’t argue with that.
‘There is one thing I feel compelled to do,’ she said, ‘and I hope you’ll go along with me in this one little thing...’
‘That depends what it is,’ he said.
If they never did anything else together, they would do this, Rosie determined. The ceremony she had in mind held as much significance for her as toasting the life of a loved one in champagne at a wake. Taking a moment to celebrate the life of a very special woman, who had done so much for both of them, before normal hostilities were resumed shouldn’t be too much to ask. It was time to find out.
‘No ice cream for me, thank you.’ Don Xavier put up his hand as if to ward off the scoop of ice cream she was offering him.
Her stomach was clenching with apprehension, but she’d started so she’d finish. ‘I’m afraid I must insist.’
‘You must insist?’ he said, scanning her face as if he thought she’d gone mad.
‘I don’t have any champagne to toast your aunt,’ Rosie explained, ‘and as Doña Anna loved ice cream, I thought we could both take a moment to remember her.’
Her throat was so tight by the time she’d finished this little speech she couldn’t have argued with him if she’d tried, so it was a relief when he reached for the bowl. Lifting her own bowl, she proposed huskily, ‘To Doña Anna...’
A muscle flexed in Don Xavier’s jaw, and then—and she was sure she wasn’t mistaken—the faintest hint of amusement sparked in his eyes. So he was human after all. ‘I’m sure if we do this together, we can do more things together,’ she prompted as she waited for him to start eating. She had to stop herself exclaiming with relief when his firm mouth closed around the spoon.
‘Doña Anna,’ he murmured, holding her gaze until heat flared inside her.
‘Doña Anna,’ she repeated, trying not to meet his eyes as she wondered what else he could do with that sexy mouth. He was just so unreasonably hot. She had never been alone with such a good-looking man before, let alone so close to him. Her ideal was based on the heroes in the books she used to read to Doña Anna, and they were all big and dark and dangerous too.
And that was quite enough rambling off-track for one day, Rosie warned herself firmly. If Don Xavier had made the slightest move she’d have run a mile.
‘Are we done here?’ he asked, dipping his head to bait her with his piercing stare.
‘Yes, I think so. Thank you for that.’ Her body thanked him very much. She was tingling with awareness.
* * *
He wanted to smear her with ice cream and lick it off slowly. He wanted to lay her down on the kitchen table and attend quite thoroughly to Señorita Clifton’s every need. He wanted to explore every hungry part of her body slowly. He could certainly see some use for the ice cream. The contrast of heat and cold would be a torment to her—to him too, but that torment would end with pleasure so extreme, they would never forget it.
‘The tour?’ he prompted, shaking himself around.
‘Of course.’ She smiled primly into his eyes, but he couldn’t help wondering what was going on behind that lambent gaze.
Why did the one woman in the world he needed to eject from his life as efficiently and quickly as possible have to be so desirable, and so ready for seduction?
Why did she have to be so infuriatingly in his way?
It was vital to keep his mind on his goal, which was to own one hundred per cent of the island. He had to leave all thoughts of seducing Rosie Clifton out of it.
‘When we’ve completed the tour, you can sign the documents...’ He glanced at them.
Her gaze followed his to the table. ‘I’ll have to read them first,’ she said. ‘That’s another lesson Doña Anna taught me,’ she explained blithely. ‘Never write anything down that you’re not happy for the whole world to read—and never sign anything until you know what you’re putting your name to.’
Striding to the kitchen door to hide the impatience on his face, he opened it. ‘Don’t you trust me?’
‘Should I?’ She looked up candidly as he closed the door behind them both.
He should be used to her directness by now. She’d never had the chance to develop social niceties, he allowed. What you saw was what you got with Rosie Clifton. She had to be the most straightforward woman he’d ever met. ‘Those documents concern the future of the island,’ he informed her. ‘Something I thought you cared deeply about.’
‘I do,’ she assured him, ‘but I care for Doña Anna’s last wishes equally.’
‘In that case, you’ll read them and sign them.’
‘When I’ve read them, I’ll decide what to do,’ she said in a pleasant tone that made it hard to argue.
‘We’ll discuss it later,’ he snapped. ‘It’s getting dark.’
Later? She kept her cool, but inwardly she quailed. How long did Don Xavier plan to stay? As for reading the documents later, she got the distinct impression that it didn’t matter whether she did or not, as his decision regarding the island was already made.
‘Do I have your attention, Señorita Clifton?’
‘You have all of it,’ she said honestly, running to catch up with him. She would have to be made of wood not to be impressed by his staggering good looks and his physique, but even they couldn’t compete with the force of his personality. ‘Shall I lead the way?’ she suggested pleasantly.
‘Would you?’ he murmured, mocking her, she was sure.
‘I’d love to,’ she parried, guessing this might be the one and only time she got one step ahead of Don Xavier.
CHAPTER FIVE
THIS WAS WORSE than he’d thought. The tour took far longer than he’d expected. So long, it was almost dark by the time they had finished with the house. How long had he been away from the island? He hadn’t thought it long enough for everything to fall into ruin. His expression had remained carefully neutral throughout, but both he and Rosie knew that if he’d spared his aunt some time he could have stopped the rot in its tracks. Things were so bad it would be better to demolish the hacienda and then rebuild it. Even here on the deck in the shadows of dusk he could see the timbers were rotting beneath his feet.
Rosie watched him as he walked, brooding. Buying her out and then keeping her on to act as a link between his team and the islanders had been one possibility, but that possibility was gone now. She might be well respected on the island, but the work required was way beyond her scope to direct. He had tried telling himself that this was just one more business negotiation amongst many, but the agony on Rosie’s face when he uncovered each new flaw had found a way past his defences. His expression alone must have told her that the house was beyond repair. It should be demolished before there was an accident.
At least he understood why Doña Anna had been so keen to keep him away. She had hated change, and must have closed her eyes to the deterioration. She had been fiercely proud, refusing all his offers of help. He had begged her to accept professional care when her health had begun to fail, and money for the island as well, but she had turned him down on both counts, insisting that the island was doing very well, thank you, and she would source her next companion from one of the many charities he funded. With the prince’s prompting, Rosie Clifton had seemed the obvious choice. If he’d only known then how things would work out—
‘Something wrong?’ he called after Rosie, who was heading back inside the house at speed.
‘I’m cold. I need a cardigan. Please...make yourself at—’
He heard the break in her voice, and guessed the blinkers were well and truly off. Seeing everything through his eyes had been an unwelcome wake-up call. Only a matter of days ago, he would have thought her tears a good thing. Of course she would cry. Of course the helpless little orphan would look to him to save the day, but the situation had turned out to be far more complicated than that. He understood property, and could take a realistic view. Rosie only knew that this was Doña Anna’s home, and as such she thought the hacienda was inviolable.
At least she understood the enormity of the task now. She had no option but to sign the documents. She couldn’t raise the money. She’d already tried, and failed. She had to accept that only his wealth could save the island. He was offering far more than her share was worth in recognition of her care of his aunt. But Rosie’s job was done now, and it was time for her to move on. If she proved foolish and refused to take his money, his lawyers would take over. Whatever Rosie decided, the outcome would be the same. He wouldn’t allow his judgement to be clouded by his growing interest in some young girl, and he had never entered into a negotiation without it ending in success for him. The only difference this time was some slight regret that Rosie’s sunny optimism would move on, out of his life. That, and the thought of some other man putting his hands on her, which made his hackles rise. It was time to remind himself once and for all that Señorita Clifton had no place in his life.
* * *
She’d done the one thing she had vowed not to do, Rosie fretted, tense with frustration and anger because she’d shown her feelings; something she had learned not to do in the orphanage. Don Xavier had undone her control in a couple of hours. And now she had run away from a problem—several problems: the house, the island, her inheritance, and him. She was currently locked down in the sanctuary of her bedroom, trying to work out what to do next. It wasn’t as if she had any experience in high level negotiations. During the tour, he’d found fault with everything. That hurt when this was the only home she’d ever known. But it didn’t mean she was going to roll over and sell out. She had to find a way out of this, or squads of men in steel-capped boots would be marching over the islanders’ carefully tended fields in no time flat. And, yes, the house was dilapidated. She was even prepared to believe it was as dangerous as he’d said, but both house and island deserved a second chance.
‘What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,’ Doña Anna used to say. She had to keep on with the regular meetings she’d set up with the islanders, and lobbying the big food chains until one of them came on board with her ideas. She wouldn’t give up until the very last hope was extinguished. And when that light went out, she’d think of something else.
A Diamond for Del Rio's Housekeeper Page 4
