Swivelling, Anna looked around, sucking in her breath as she saw a tall, broad figure casually strolling around the nearest bungalow, peering in through the shutters as if he had every right to be there. She thrust her shoulders back, indignation filling her. The signs were quite clear—this was private property. Without stopping to think twice she marched over to the bungalow by the straightest possible route, pushing her way through the overgrown trees and shrubs, barely noticing the branches scratching her skin.
‘Excuse me.’ Her Spanish completely escaped her as she reached hailing distance of the bungalow. ‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’
Indignation had carried her within touching distance before common sense reasserted itself and she stopped abruptly, catching her breath as she took in the intruder. This was no overentitled, overweight businessman out for a gentle sail. This was a pirate. Over six feet of muscled pirate. There wasn’t an inch of fat—no, not a centimetre of fat—on him; his bare torso, exposed by his open white shirt, could have served as the model for Michelangelo’s David. His dark hair was cropped short, his even darker eyes raking her up and down with an arrogance that made her tremble with rage.
Rage and awareness of just how grubby she was, no make-up, a crumpled old T-shirt, hair bundled hastily up. She resisted the urge to straighten her top, to shake out her hair and did her best to ignore the zing that shot straight through her traitorous body as his gaze travelled over her.
‘Doing? I’m wondering if this is a hotel or a film set for a disaster movie,’ he replied in heavily accented English.
‘We haven’t finished preparing for the opening of the season yet,’ she said as loftily as she could, the heat mounting in her cheeks at the contempt in the dark depths of his eyes.
‘Finished? You haven’t even started. I don’t know what kind of scam you’re running here, señorita, but my sister will not be part of it.’
‘Your sister?’
‘Rest assured she will find somewhere else for her wedding.’ He turned, his business clearly done, setting off along the overgrown path leading back to the jetty.
Anna’s brain tried to unscramble the words. The big wedding, the model, the event that had sent her mother into such a spin she had summoned both her daughters to her side, the event her mother was counting on to restore the hotel’s fortunes. The mess the island was in might be down to her mother’s mismanagement, but how could Anna let the idyllic playground of her childhood, her beloved grandparents’ legacy, fade away? Whoever this man was she had to try and persuade him not to give up on the island. ‘You’re the bride’s brother?’
He barely paused. ‘Sí.’
Casting a look around for help and coming up blank, Anna realised with a sinking heart that it was up to her to persuade him not to tell his sister to cancel the booking. Breaking into a light jog, she followed him up the path, breathlessly braking as she reached his side. ‘Look, señor, I know the island is in a bit of a state, but, I promise you, it will be perfect for your sister’s wedding.’
Halting, he turned a scathing look on her. ‘How? You have an army of elves?’
‘No. No army.’ How did one get an army of elves? Maybe some could write her book for her while they were here. ‘We’re a little behind, I admit, but I always meet my deadlines, señor, and this is no different. Give us the opportunity and I promise your sister will have the wedding of her dreams.’
Her words echoed round her head. ‘I always meet my deadlines’, her stomach lurching with the same sickening jolt it always gave when she thought about her agent’s increasingly urgent emails. But she held her head high and met his thoughtful gaze, that same unwanted zing zipping through her body as his attention focussed on her. ‘Please,’ she said again, not too proud to beg, holding her breath while she waited for him to reply. ‘Just give me a chance to prove it to you.’
* * *
Leo stared at the tall woman as she stood imploringly opposite him, hands clasped before her. He’d been surprised when she’d spoken to him in English, her accent so clear cut she could only be a native of that damp island. With her thick mass of dark hair and clear olive skin she looked like some kind of mythological Mediterranean nymph, her eyes, fringed with long dark lashes, the colour of the sea, her lips the pink of a summer sunset.
‘Are you the owner?’ Not that it made any difference. He needed to get back to the boat, phone Valentina and warn her this venue was a no go.
It wasn’t as if his half-sister had no other choices for her wedding. Her fiancé’s mother had offered the couple her Victorian house on Martha’s Vineyard, but his sister had nixed that suggestion in no uncertain terms. ‘She wants to make the wedding all preppy and tasteful,’ she’d complained, scorn in her voice. Valentina’s brand was all about exuberance and she wanted to make sure her wedding reflected that—and what Valentina wanted she usually got. That determination had propelled her from part-time model and socialite to online queen and supermodel. Her willingness to share every instant of her life, complete with the perfect filter and hashtag, was partly what had elevated her above all the other pretty-girl wannabes, but it was hard work and a cool business brain that had turned her into a global brand.
Leo didn’t understand how Valentina could bear to live her life through millions of screens, but he didn’t have to. All he wanted was for her to be happy, to make up for her childhood, for the neglect from his side of her family. Which was why, after he’d heard that a fire had destroyed her previous choice of wedding venue, he offered to head to La Isla Marina and check out why they could accommodate a lavish wedding at such short notice.
It had taken approximately five seconds to reach an answer. The island was completely unsuitable—and yet here he still was. Gaze still fixed on the sea nymph, feet still fixed to the ground, still wondering exactly what shade of pink her plump lips were.
‘No, I’m not the owner, I’m her daughter. Look. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but everything is under control.’
But her eyes couldn’t quite meet his as she said the words. Leo folded his arms and regarded her sardonically, watching the faint blush of colour spread over her cheeks. ‘You’re an experienced wedding planner? Or maybe you’re an events co-ordinator? A hotel manager? A plumber and builder? All of the above?’
She blinked. ‘Well, no...’
‘No? What do you do?’
‘I’m a lecturer, I don’t see...’
‘A lecturer? In plumbing?’
Her colour heightened. ‘In European history. I mostly look at history from a feminist perspective...’ She caught his eye and stopped.
‘That will be very useful, I’m sure. I don’t think I need to see any more.’ There was no point in staying, no matter how pretty the help. He turned, ready to leave when his phone buzzed. He pulled it out. Valentina. ‘Hola.’
‘Is it amazing? I wish I could be there with you. I have to fly to Japan tomorrow, and then I’m off to Australia for a week and there’s a shoot booked in here in New York after that so it’s impossible for me to get there before the wedding, but, Leo darling, I am so grateful that you are there making sure everything is perfect. Is it perfect? Just as I remember?’
‘Valentina.’ He tried to interrupt her, but his sister babbled on.
‘This feels right, Leo. It is such a shame about the villa, but I spent such happy summers on La Isla Marina, that has to be a good omen, doesn’t it? It will be like coming home in some ways. Todd won’t know what’s hit him,’ she added. ‘I know the Vineyard is beautiful, but I want this wedding to reflect me, to be as un-New York as possible.’
Leo paused. Valentina was extremely well off now, and she was marrying into serious old New York money, but she had been brought up on the edge of poverty thanks to his father’s nasty habit of discarding his mistresses and their offspring as soon as their demands got too inconvenient. While Leo had been brou
ght up in the solitary, austere luxury of the castillo, she had spent her childhood years in a tiny apartment in the rougher side of the city. Who could blame her for wanting to live the fairy tale she’d been denied? She was the daughter of a conde after all, even if the illustrious Lord refused to acknowledge her.
Leo looked around, assessing the island with fresh eyes. It was battered, sure, but it didn’t need a fortune to bring it up to scratch; it needed some time and care. Leo could easily make that happen. It could be his wedding gift to the sister he had spent too many years not knowing. ‘It needs some work, but nothing that can’t be easily fixed. Don’t panic.’
‘How can I panic when you’re there taking care of things for me, mi hermano? Will you keep an eye on it until I can get there? I don’t need it to be perfect for the sponsors or all the people who will be watching and judging. I just want it to be perfect for me. For Todd.’
‘It will be,’ Leo promised. He snapped his phone shut. His options were clear: find his sister another whimsical Spanish island wedding venue able and willing to accommodate over one hundred bright young things in a month’s time or make sure this place was transformed into the venue of her dreams. Besides, what else did he have to do? He fixed the nymph with a hard stare. ‘Pass me that notebook,’ he said. ‘We have a lot of work to do.’
CHAPTER TWO
THE NYMPH CLUTCHED her notebook tightly and glared. ‘We?’
‘We,’ Leo confirmed. ‘Right now this hotel is only fit for a Halloween-themed wedding. I’m sure your knowledge of European feminist history will be very useful when it comes to sorting out the dripping showers, but just in case it isn’t I am intending to stay and oversee.’
‘Really?’ The bright blue eyes were hard. ‘And you know how to fix a dripping tap, I suppose?’
‘I can fix a tap, tile a wall, paint woodwork. Can you?’ It was all true, not that many people knew that. It would ruin his carefully cultivated, trust-funded euro-playboy image if anyone knew just how handy he was with a spanner, just as no one knew that every penny that slipped so seemingly carelessly through his fingers he had earnt. His father had cut him off at eighteen expecting a repentant and obedient son to beg for the purse strings to be reinstated. He was still waiting.
It drove him mad, not having the financial control he yearned for over his son, drove him to distraction that he had no idea where or how Leo obtained the funds for his extravagant lifestyle. And the lifestyle he saw his only son, the future Conde de Olvares, choose to lead drove him craziest of all. Every photo of Leo at another party, in a new casino, with a new model on his arm guaranteed it, Leo made sure of that. In the Conde de Olvares’s rulebook appearances were everything, vices were to be hidden away.
Leo had taken his father’s rule and reversed it. Every vice on the surface for everyone to see, the virtues hidden far beneath. Truth was he barely attended any parties any more—and when he did usually stayed just long enough to be photographed. Valentina had taught him well. Perception was everything.
The nymph tilted her chin defiantly. ‘I’m sure I can learn. I can follow instructions.’
‘That’s good to know,’ Leo said softly and her cheeks burned a deeper red.
‘Look. I can see why you’re worried.’ Her gaze slid over to the nearest bungalow. ‘But I have assured you, repeatedly, that everything is under control.’
Leo followed her gaze. The bungalow was dirty, the white paint peeling off the external walls, the trees and flowers growing so close it was only a matter of time till nature recolonised the building. It needed nails in the roof, a lick of paint and a damn good clean. Hot, sweaty, hard manual work.
His eyes narrowed. Maybe the work would help fix the melancholy he couldn’t quite shake. Leo wasn’t sure he’d ever experienced real, unadulterated happiness, but for the past twelve years he had managed something resembling content; always on the move, always making money, always his own man. But ever since Valentina had announced her engagement, that contentment had become elusive, her glowing happiness a sharp contrast to his darkness.
Leo had always thought that they were cut from the same cloth, but now his baby sister was proving braver—or more foolhardy—than him. Either way Leo was left in her wake. It was an uncomfortable place to be.
His original intention had been to make a few phone calls and get a team of labourers despatched to La Isla Marina then return in a month’s time to enjoy the wedding, but maybe a few weeks getting his hands dirty on a beautiful island with a beautiful girl was exactly what he needed. Time out from his usual regime.
Turning, he held out his hand. ‘Leo di Marquez y Correa,’ he said and braced himself. There was no flare of recognition in her blue eyes, no rise of her straight, no nonsense brows. Nearly everyone Leo met had already formed an opinion of him. Most people either disapproved of him, wanted to party with him or wanted to sleep with him. A very few, those in the know, wanted his investment. He rarely, however, met with blank politeness bordering on disdain.
It would be an interesting challenge to turn that disdain to desire. His blood stirred at the very thought; he did have a few weeks with no plans after all...
‘Anna Gray,’ she said after a moment, making no move to take his hand. ‘Dr Anna Gray.’
‘A doctor as well as an expert on feminism in Europe’s history?’ He smiled to show he was joking, turning on the full force of his charm to see if he could tempt those pink lips to smile.
She didn’t respond in kind, folding her arms defensively. ‘I have a PhD from Oxford, not that it’s any of your business. Look, Señor di Marquez...’
‘Leo.’
‘I appreciate that things look a little ramshackle right now, and I know your sister’s wedding is going to get a lot of publicity...’
‘Publicity which will benefit you.’
‘But I assure you, we are quite capable of getting everything ready in plenty of time...’
‘Then I’m very sure another pair of hands will come in very useful. I’ll make it easy for you, Dr Gray. I’ll sleep on my boat and work for food alone. I won’t even tell my sister just how much needs to be done here. Tell me, are you really in a position to refuse?’
* * *
Anna hugged her notebook tighter, her mind working furiously. She should be snatching Leo’s offer with both hands, but something held her back. She didn’t know whether it was the sardonic look in his dark eyes, the smirk playing about his mouth or the teasing tone in his voice. It didn’t help that he was one of the most insanely handsome men she had ever seen in the flesh. Oxford wasn’t exactly short of overconfident men thinking they could win using their charm alone, but the city didn’t run to Spanish pirates, nor was she used to conducting conversations with practically bare-chested men.
It also didn’t help that her knees weakened every time he fixed that intense gaze on her, that she could feel her pulse speeding up faster and faster. Her friends had been telling her to get out and date more. This must be her body’s way of agreeing if one hard-eyed, hard-chested man could have this effect on her.
Anna dragged her thoughts away from Leo’s chest and back to the matter at hand, her eyes narrowing as she considered his far-too-good-to-be-true offer. ‘Don’t you have a job to go to? How will you manage to take a month off work with no notice?’
‘I work for myself and I am a famously forgiving boss.’
Lucrative boss if that boat was anything to judge by. ‘It’s not up to me,’ Anna said finally. ‘My mother owns the island.’
‘Then lead on. I’ll present my credentials to your leader.’
Anna tried to hold his amused gaze, but to her frustration her own dropped first. She could stand up in front of a full lecture theatre without breaking a sweat, turn overly confident undergraduates into shaking shadows of their former selves with one disbelieving arch of an eyebrow, but in front of this man her defences crum
bled. ‘Fine,’ she said tightly. ‘Follow me.’
As she led him along the overgrown paths, Anna was aware of Leo’s keen gaze taking in every crack, every break in the path and the surrounding buildings and worry shivered through her once again. Had the resort been on the road to such dilapidation when her grandparents were still alive? They had been pretty old, after all, their staff of a similar age. It would have been too easy for things to start to slide unnoticed by them. Her mother, though, had little excuse. She’d been living here for nearly a decade, ever since she had drifted away from the family home for a holiday, a holiday that bled into an extended stay, which in turn became a separation. The same old frustration bubbled up and Anna curled her hands into loose fists. No doubt her mother had just employed her usual mantra of mañana, never worrying that one day she would have to deal with the rapidly escalating problems.
Well, she wasn’t dealing, was she? Anna was here dealing for her. As usual.
Only, who was she to cast aspersions? Wasn’t she doing exactly the same thing with her book? Hoping that somehow something miraculous would happen and it would all fall into place. Running away from her problems...
‘So tell me, what does being a Professor of European history with a feminist slant entail these days?’ Anna started, guiltily. It was as if Leo had read her mind. ‘You seem very young to be a professor.’
‘You’re not the first to say that.’ Although most people also snidely insinuated her renowned historian father had helped her climb the academic ladder faster than usual, that her name was responsible for her success, not her credentials. Or they looked down at the success of her first book, convinced a popular history book couldn’t be as well-researched, as important, as an academic paper read only by other specialists in her field. It had been easier to hold her head high when she hadn’t doubted herself, when she had been sure that the academic life was all she needed.
Baby Surprise for the Spanish Billionaire Page 2
