* * *
She sounded so reasonable.
She acted so reasonable!
Xavier pressed his fingers to his eyes, leaning heavily against the counter. He should have waited twelve months before coming out here. He should have waited for the worst of his grief to pass.
The moment his grandfather had told him the story about this motel, though, revealing his heartbreak, Xavier had wanted to act. At once. He’d hoped it would make him feel better. It hadn’t. It had been nothing more than a flimsy excuse to hide from his grief.
Still, none of that meant he had to put up with Aggie’s portrait on the wall for another day!
Reaching across the counter, he removed the storeroom key from the drawer Wynne had indicated.
CHAPTER SIX
XAVIER WAS AWARE of Wynne’s silent stare when he returned with the ladder. He wanted triumph to flood him as he lifted the portrait off the wall. Instead all he felt was a prickling awareness that lifted the small hairs at his nape as she watched him with those unflinching jade eyes.
He stepped off the last rung and rested the portrait against the stool. ‘I would like you to throw that in the skip.’ A couple of beats passed and he forced himself to add a belated, ‘Please.’
‘Besides the fact that we don’t have a skip, I’m afraid this portrait is my personal property. But never fear—I’ll remove it from the premises pronto.’
She opened her mouth as if to add something, but then glanced past him, a smile transforming her face. That smile held him still while his heart dashed itself against his ribs. Her smiles were so wide and genuine. And she was so free and easy with them!
Swallowing, he turned to see who the lucky recipient was and found a woman dressed in a smart navy suit striding towards the counter.
‘Believe me, Wynne, this place is a sight for sore eyes today.’
‘I shudder to think what time you hit the road this morning, Carmen, but you’ve made excellent time. Keep this up and you might even get to spend the weekend with that gorgeous grandson of yours.’
‘That’s the plan.’
When Wynne handed the woman a room key with a cheery, ‘Your usual room is free,’ he assumed that this Carmen must be a regular guest.
‘I’m cooking tonight, if you’re interested.’
‘Thanks, Wynne, but I have a hankering for Thai.’ She pointed. ‘What’s the deal with Aggie’s picture?’
‘Oh! Carmen—this is Xavier Ramos. He’s the motel’s new owner and we’re getting a name-change in honour of his grandfather—Villa Lorenzo. So we’re going to pop up a portrait of Lorenzo. We’re in for a bit of refurbishment too. Exciting times!’
Not an ounce of resentment threaded through her voice or flitted across her face.
Carmen turned alarmed eyes on him. ‘I hope you don’t mean to change the place too much. This is my home away from home.’
‘I hope it will continue to remain so,’ he returned smoothly.
But her suit was off-the-rack and both her handbag and shoes showed signs of wear. This Carmen would not be able to afford to stay in the Lorenzo, once it was completed. He pushed his shoulders back. There were many other three-star motor inns in the Gold Coast. In the meantime she would be very welcome at Villa Lorenzo.
Her eyes narrowed and she swung back to Wynne. ‘He’s going to get rid of the Old English Victorian manor feel of the place, isn’t he?’
‘Nothing is decided yet. So far we’ve just been tossing around a few ideas. But, dear Lord, Carmen—all of the carpet needs to come up, new window dressings wouldn’t go astray, and even you have to admit that all the wood panelling is a bit...naff.’
‘Well...perhaps a little.’
Xavier watched in astonishment as Wynne turned Carmen’s ambivalence slowly on its head.
‘Xavier, I just had a thought!’ Wynne shimmied on the spot. ‘Given your grandfather’s heritage, and yours, what if we went with a Spanish theme for the motel? That’d be a lovely homage to your grandfather. We could keep the individuality of the rooms still, but tie them together with the Spanish theme.’
It would be the perfect revenge on Aggie. Did she not realise that?
Of course she did. But he was starting to see that she really didn’t care about Aggie and Lorenzo’s history. It left him feeling...flat.
‘I’ve always wanted to go to Spain,’ Carmen breathed.
He’d lay money on the fact that Wynne had known that too. His motel manager was crafty and astute. And kind and generous and warm-hearted.
And far from timid—which was what she’d accused Lorenzo of being. What would she do if she ever fell in love? What lengths would she go to in order to win her lover’s heart?
What lengths would he himself go?
He shook himself free of that thought. He had no intention of falling in love. Ever. He was never giving a woman the kind of power that Aggie had wielded over Lorenzo. That kind of power brought a man to his knees and broke him.
He wasn’t even giving a woman the power he’d given to Camilla. He had a son and heir. Marriage no longer held any allure for him.
‘Before you go, Carmen, that red Corvette is up for sale.’ Wynne retrieved an envelope from beneath the counter. ‘Here are the details.’
Her grin made his chest catch.
‘So now you have an enviable choice in front of you—a trip to Spain next year or a little red Corvette.’
‘You’re a wicked woman, Wynne!’ Carmen took the envelope. ‘Speaking of wicked women—how’s Aggie?’
A shadow passed across Wynne’s face. ‘Same old, same old.’
‘I bought her a present. Send my love the next time you see her.’
‘That’s kind of you, Carmen. I will.’
‘Why did you do that?’ he asked when Carmen had disappeared.
She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. ‘Do what? You might want to give me a little more to go on.’
He shifted his weight. ‘Suggest the Spanish theme?’
‘I thought you’d like it. I thought Lorenzo would like it. I mean, I know you’re talking about building some outrageous skyscraper, but that’s going to take time. In the meantime...’ She trailed off with a shrug.
‘Why should you care what Lorenzo would like?’
She folded her arms, turning and resting one hip against the counter. The portrait of Aggie hid most of her legs. Aggie smirked, as if she knew how much that irked him.
‘I don’t know how honest I should be here, Xavier.’
‘I would like you to be fully honest. I assure you that this conversation will have no bearing on our working relationship. This is outside of that. I will not dismiss you for anything you say now.’
‘Okay.’ She pulled in a breath. ‘The fact that your grandfather mentioned Aggie on his deathbed suggests to me that she had long been on his mind. It also leads me to think that he wasn’t a happy man.’ A frown darkened her eyes. She spoke slowly as if choosing her words with care. ‘That he didn’t lead a joyful life.’
An ache ballooned inside Xavier’s chest. It was all he could do to keep breathing. Nobody could have managed joy when married to Xavier’s grandmother. She hadn’t been able to stand hearing people laugh, or endure seeing them have fun. She’d made Lorenzo miserable. How Lorenzo had resisted shrivelling up into a hard and bitter man was beyond him.
‘It makes me think his marriage was not very happy.’ Her gaze sharpened and her lips twisted. ‘No doubt that was Aggie’s fault as well.’
Just for a moment he saw Lorenzo—and himself—through her eyes, and he didn’t like what he saw.
‘Your grandfather created a great financial empire. He must’ve been very driven. But it seems to me that despite his wife and his three sons, and all his career success, he w
asn’t a happy man. My grandmother’s life, in comparison, was very modest—and yet she lived her life with joy.’
His hands clenched. What right did Aggie have to that joy when she’d robbed his grandfather’s life of happiness and peace?
‘But if making over this motel in the style of your grandfather’s heritage helps to heal that wound somehow, then I’m all for it. And, despite what you think, Aggie would be all for it too.’
‘I want to meet her.’
Startled eyes met his. ‘Aggie?’
He nodded.
She shook her head. ‘Not a chance.’
‘But—’
‘Do you really think I’m going to give you a chance to speak to her in the same fashion you just have to me and Tina? You’re a smarter man than that, Xavier.’
He’d just have to go behind her back, then. He had every intention of keeping his promise to Lorenzo.
She picked up Aggie’s portrait and sent him a sweet smile. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe this is my afternoon off.’
* * *
Xavier had gone to his room and tried to immerse himself in the endless emails that needed attention, but a thwack-thwack drifted in through his open balcony doors from the direction of Wynne’s cottage.
He sat back. The land next door would be crucial to his plans. He’d give her a good price for it—an outrageous price if need be.
Thwack-thwack.
He rose. There was no time like the present to push for a deal.
The moment he entered Wynne’s property through the side gate in the fence the reason behind the thwack-thwack became evident. She had her back to him and was wielding a paddle bat like an axe as she played a solitary game of... He wasn’t sure what it was called in Australia—swing ball, totem tennis? Her every muscle bunched as she beat the blazes out of the ball. She looked as if she was fighting the world.
He raked a hand back through his hair. Dios! Had he done that to her?
She didn’t know that he was there. He could turn around and creep away.
Another paddle bat lay on the grass nearby. He stared at it, and then with a smothered imprecation he seized it. In one smooth motion he’d joined the game.
Wynne didn’t say anything, but she didn’t break stride either. They played in silence for a while, and his chest clenched up tight at the set of her face.
‘Is this because of me?’ he asked finally. ‘Your...anger? Is it because of how I behaved earlier?’
She missed a shot. ‘No!’
Her genuine shock eased something inside him. He never wanted to be responsible for the desolation that stretched through her eyes, making her mouth thin and vulnerable.
She hit her next shot with extra venom and it was all he could do to return it.
‘It’s an old issue, Xavier. And there’s nothing to be done. But sometimes playing an aggressive game of tether tennis helps.’
An old issue? A man?
A hard fist clenched in his chest. Had one of her no-hopers broken her heart? Was he still on the scene, causing her grief? If she confided in him, he would take care of the matter. With speed and ruthlessness. Wynne deserved better than a man who...who used her.
She was right—she wasn’t a wild woman. Wild women were selfish, pleasure-seeking...reckless. Wild women didn’t care how their behaviour affected others. That wasn’t Wynne. She held the hands of sick and frightened young women. She cuddled crying children.
The memory of her with that child on her lap...
Dios! He only just missed being hit by the ball as it whizzed past his nose. He half expected her to laugh and throw him some challenge. Laughter, however, did not light her eyes. He had a feeling she hadn’t even noticed his missed shot.
She suddenly seemed to grow aware of his scrutiny. She served the ball to him again. ‘You must’ve loved Lorenzo a great deal.’
Yearning stretched through her eyes, and he didn’t know what she yearned for. He nodded, choosing to focus on answering the question before he became lost in that deep green. ‘I did.’
‘Tell me about him. Why did you love him so well?’
So he did. He told her about the holidays and weekends that he’d spent with Lorenzo. They’d been the one bright point in his otherwise lonely childhood. He related incidents he hadn’t thought about in years.
She laughed when he described his and Lorenzo’s botched attempt at topiary. His grandmother, unfortunately, hadn’t seen the humour in the misshapen bushes and hedges on their rather grand estate in the hills of Malaga. But then his grandmother had been the antithesis of Lorenzo, and intent on eradicating anything she’d deemed as inappropriate, noisy or in bad taste. Apparently any form of fun had been in bad taste. Whenever she’d been around Lorenzo’s laughter had fallen silent. The injustice of that still burned in Xavier’s soul.
He told Wynne how Lorenzo had taken him exploring in the older part of town, with its winding cobbled alleys, where they’d eat paella from street vendors and talk and talk and talk.
He and Lorenzo had created their own little world, where laughter, curiosity and freedom had reigned supreme—so different from the real world they’d belonged to. A world defined by duty and status and the appearance of respectability. They’d found comfort and camaraderie in each other. When they’d returned to that real world they had both reverted to being silent loners.
For a moment Xavier missed his grandfather so much it was all he could do to keep his voice even, but as he talked his grandfather came alive for him again. And as he talked the tension in Wynne’s shoulders gradually eased, the shadows in her eyes retreated, and the tight lines about her lips softened.
He didn’t want to notice her lips—they sent his temperature soaring—but to know he’d helped to lighten her load in some small way made him feel... He pushed his shoulders back. It made him feel like a million dollars! He wished he could bottle the feeling so he could draw on it the next time she challenged him or took him to task.
Eventually Wynne lowered her bat. Her green eyes darkened. ‘Thank you.’
He tried to shrug. ‘I did nothing.’
She shook her head, the ghost of a smile playing across her lips. ‘That’s not true and you know it.’
And then, as if on impulse, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. The scent of jasmine and warm woman engulfed him. He clenched his hands to stop himself gathering her in and kissing her properly.
Images rose in his mind and hunger roared through him like a wind in his ears, deafening him, making him hyper-aware of the pulse pounding in his blood and the shine on Wynne’s lips. She’d taken a step away from him, but paused now as if caught by the expression on his face. The green in her eyes flashed and sparked and he knew she felt it too.
For a moment he thought she might lean forward and press her lips to his. He held his breath...
With a tiny shake of her head, she stepped back. ‘I...uh... Would you like a drink?’
When he nodded, she wiped her hands down the sides of her trousers—a nervous gesture that sent masculine satisfaction flooding through him. He couldn’t recall wanting a woman with this kind of primitive hunger in... He couldn’t remember how long! And she wanted him too. He could see it in the glitter of her eyes, the heightened colour at her cheekbones.
He lifted his chin. What was to stop them from indulging in that passion? From giving each other pleasure?
‘Right.’ Her voice emerged on a breathless huff and she waved to her outdoor table setting. ‘Why don’t you take a seat?’
She fled inside. He sat, his heart pounding.
She returned a short time later with a jug of homemade lemonade. Ice clinked against its sides as she poured it into glasses, her hands not quite steady.
He surveyed her over the rim of his glass. She mig
ht call herself a good girl, but that didn’t mean she’d necessarily view every romantic encounter as if it would lead to love and commitment.
Heat coiled in the pit of his belly. He would find out her position on that first. And then...
Fire licked along his nerve-endings. It had been too long since he’d felt this alive.
* * *
The expression on Xavier’s face made Wynne’s pulse do a Mexican Wave. She held on to her glass for grim life.
Dear God. It had been foolish to kiss Xavier—even innocently on the cheek.
Innocent? Raucous laughter sounded in her head. Puhlease! You just wanted to feel the strength of him beneath your fingertips as you leant against him. You wanted to breathe him in.
Oh, but he smelled so good! Breathing him in just made her feel...easier, somehow. As for the rest of him...
His hard strength through the thin cotton of his shirt had seared her palms. They tingled still. It had been the height of foolishness to touch him like that. Even now her pulse refused to settle.
Stop it! Think of something to say.
‘Are you close to your parents, Xavier?’
Dear God, find something to talk about that’s not personal!
‘I respect them.’
That pulled her out of her fog. Talk about damned with faint praise.
He glanced at her from beneath dark winged brows. ‘It is fair to say that my parents are naturally reserved and very...proper.’
Cold.
‘They ensured that I attended the very best boarding schools.’
The Spanish Tycoon's Takeover Page 9
