The Spanish Tycoon's Takeover

by Michelle Douglas

  ‘I knew that before she spoke—before I realised that she had...’

  ‘Alzheimer’s Disease,’ she confirmed for him.

  ‘I am sorry, Wynne. I would apologise to Aggie too, if I thought it would do any good. But I fear it would only confuse and agitate her.’

  Wynne swallowed the lump in her throat and ignored the burning at the backs of her eyes. ‘You were very kind to her. You took the time to entertain her. I’m not happy that you came here today, and I won’t pretend otherwise, but I can’t accuse you of cruelty. It seems I’ve misjudged you...again.’

  ‘Again?’

  He watched her so closely it made her pulse jump. ‘I thought you would take against my staff, but you didn’t. I should’ve given you the benefit of the doubt.’ She swallowed. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘You do not need to apologise to me.’

  She tried to smile, only her lips refused to co-operate. ‘It’s very difficult, this situation with Aggie, but that doesn’t absolve me of admitting when I’m wrong and apologising for it.’

  He stared at her with dark throbbing eyes, but didn’t say anything.

  This time when she tried to smile, her lips co-operated. ‘You’re now supposed to accept my apology.’

  ‘Of course I accept your apology!’

  ‘And I want to thank you for making Aggie laugh. For a little while she sounded like her old self...and that’s a gift.’

  ‘And yet you still wish I hadn’t visited her?’

  His perception took her off-guard and she suddenly realised she held his hand so tightly her nails dug into his skin. She let go and tried to pull her hand away, but he refused to relinquish it.

  ‘You absolve me of cruelty towards your grandmother, but you still wish I hadn’t come. Why?’

  She couldn’t contain her agitation. ‘Because now all you’re going to see whenever you think of Aggie is that petulant, angry, venomous woman, who hurls abuse at her granddaughter and is paranoid about the nurses. You’re never going to know the woman she was—the real woman who was my grandmother. The woman who apparently loved your grandfather.’

  ‘Then tell me about her.’

  His hand was warm and encouraging, and he bumped shoulders with her gently in a gesture of comradeship...friendship.

  And so she did.

  She told him how loved and secure Aggie had always made her feel, and of the fun they’d used to have together. She told him that Aggie had treated Wynne as a gift, and never a nuisance—as if being given the chance to raise her had been an honour rather than an imposition. She told him of Aggie’s kindness and how she’d helped people—really helped them.

  She told him of the spectacular and sometimes outrageous parties Aggie had thrown, her equally outrageous flirtatiousness and the cocktails she’d adored—which had usually featured crème de menthe.

  ‘She always had time for a chat. Not just with me, but with everybody. Her attitude to life was so...positive. It’s why the guests loved her, and why so many of them remember her fondly still.’

  ‘And that’s the reason you decided to follow in her footsteps?’

  Xavier’s hand anchored her. It felt right—which was crazy—but she left her hand there all the same, loath to spoil the moment.

  ‘She was over the moon when I told her I wanted to run Aggie’s Retreat. I mean, she’d saved up enough money to send me to design school because she thought that was what I wanted, but running Aggie’s Retreat was my dream—there’s nothing else I’ve ever wanted to do.’ She glanced up at him. ‘Likewise, Lorenzo must’ve been delighted when you said you wanted to run the Ramos Corporation with him.’

  ‘It is hard to say. Everyone just took it for granted that was what I would do.’

  Did duty always come first for Xavier? ‘Was there anything else you ever dreamed of doing?’

  His lips lifted. ‘When I was Luis’s age I wanted to be a fireman. And a little later I wanted to be a professional footballer. But as I grew older I simply...’ He shrugged. ‘I simply wanted to work with Lorenzo.’

  She nodded. ‘I wanted to be just like my grandmother. I’m not. I don’t have her flamboyance. But I love Aggie’s Retreat every bit as much as she did.’

  He let out a long breath, his nostrils flaring. ‘Then why did you sell it?’

  The lump she’d almost conquered lodged back in her throat, making it ache with a fierceness that had her eyes filling.

  ‘Oh, Wynne...’

  The soft whisper of her name sent a shiver across her skin. She wanted to ask him to keep talking in that same low tone and never to stop.

  His fingers tightened about hers. ‘You sold the motel to cover her medical bills?’

  His words were heavy, and an answering heaviness descended over her. She leant against him and he brushed a kiss to her hair. A pulse started up inside her. She should move back, but she doggedly pushed away the voice of caution sounding through her.

  ‘The truth is once my grandmother is gone I’m not sure I’ll have the heart to remain at Aggie’s Retreat—or Villa Lorenzo—or whatever other name it might go by.’

  ‘But what will you do?’

  She had no idea. ‘Start afresh, maybe, somewhere new.’

  ‘But your family is here—at the motel. Wynne, you are just as loved there as Aggie ever was. You belong there.’

  Did she? She wasn’t sure any more.

  ‘I feel as if I betrayed them.’ Her eyes burned and she stared at their linked hands as if they could somehow save her. ‘Tina, April, Libby and the others. I put Aggie’s welfare above theirs. I can’t help but think they must secretly resent me.’

  ‘They love and admire you.’ He cupped her face, turning it until she met his gaze. ‘They know the struggles you have had. You are tired...and depressed. It is understandable. But never doubt your own worth or the value of what you do. I, for one, think you are an amazing woman. And I am not alone in that evaluation.’

  Funnily enough, it wasn’t anybody else’s evaluation she was interested in at the moment—only his. It shouldn’t matter so much—what he thought of her. She shouldn’t let it matter so much.

  She gave a shaky laugh. ‘My grandmother was right—you’re a dreadful flirt.’

  He stared down at her with such intensity—as if to force her to see the sincerity of his words—that her breath stuttered in her chest.

  ‘I am not flirting, Wynne. This is not an attempt to flatter you. I mean what I say.’

  His perfect lips uttered the words perfectly, and need rose up through her with a speed that made her gulp. His eyes settled on her lips and darkened before once more shifting to meet her gaze. His thumb brushed across the pulse-point of her throat as if he couldn’t help it, making her blood leap beneath his touch.

  She swallowed, her mouth drying in a combination of heat and desire.

  ‘I think you are the most amazing woman I have ever met and I do not know what to make of it.’

  Her heart hammered and her eyes filled. ‘Xavier, please don’t toy with me. Here—at this place—’ Her limbs had grown too heavy to gesture at the long, low building behind them, but she knew he understood what she meant. ‘I have no defences here. It...this place...it makes me too vulnerable and—’

  His finger touched her lips and her words trembled to a halt.

  ‘I do not toy with you. For my own peace of mind I wish I could say that I were.’

  The words rasped out of him and she realised he felt as vulnerable and at sea as she did. She didn’t have the power to put him away from her. She had no desire to do anything of the kind. And she knew the same fever gripped him.

  His eyes flashed—not with anger, but with passion. ‘Tell me to let you go and I will.’

  She reached up to cup his face then. ‘You create such a fir
e in me I fear I’m burning up.’

  His head swooped down and his hands tilted her head until his lips captured her in a kiss that burned itself onto her very soul.

  Wynne clung to him to keep her balance, to keep herself together, as everything within her soared free. The insistent warmth of his lips sent heat swooping and dancing through her. She tried to kiss him back with the same slow, terrifying intensity, but his kisses made her too hungry, too greedy for patience and restraint.

  Thrusting her fingers in his hair, she pulled him closer and closer, opening herself up to him until she felt the last of his resistance shatter and he swept her onto his lap, his mouth moving over hers with a fervour that left no room for thought...only feeling and relishing and wondering...

  ‘Dios!’ He wrenched his mouth from hers, breathing heavily. ‘I wanted to know if you would taste like lemons or caramel.’

  She blinked, his words barely making any sense.

  ‘Your voice...the things you say...can be both tart and sweet. But you do not taste of anything so commonplace. You taste like spring sunshine in an orange grove, and the wind that flies before a summer storm, and the deep stillness of a winter’s night when the stars are at their most brilliant.’

  Nobody had ever spoken to her in such a way before. Nobody had ever kissed her in such a way.

  He swallowed. ‘If I do not stop this madness soon I will be in danger of forgetting that I am a gentleman.’

  She didn’t want him to stop. She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. He watched, his arms tightening about her, his gaze ravenous. She could still taste him there—a thrilling, illicit flavour that couldn’t be good for her.

  ‘Nobody has ever kissed me like that before,’ she whispered.

  His eyes glittered in the darkness. ‘Then they have been fools.’

  She lifted her chin. ‘Kiss me again.’

  It wasn’t a request, but a demand, and with a low chuckle he did.

  He pressed kisses to the corners of her mouth, nipping and teasing until she writhed with a need that bordered on madness. Finally she captured his face in her hands and held him still while she explored every inch of his mouth. When she traced the inside seam of his lips with her tongue the restraint in him snapped and he tugged her close, kissing her so deeply she never wanted to surface.

  Hands on her shoulders eventually pushed her back, and she found herself lifted bodily out of his lap and planted none too gently back on the bench.

  ‘Do you want me to lose all sense of myself and our surroundings?’ he growled at her, leaping up to pace a short distance away before coming back.

  His eyes glittered and she could practically sense the leap of his blood beneath his skin. She’d done that to him?

  He flung an arm out. ‘Do you want me to tumble you to the ground in a public place and have my way with you? Is that what you want?’ He glared at her.

  She lifted her chin, but didn’t stand. She wasn’t sure her legs were steady enough to support her. ‘I take exception to your phrasing, Xavier. It could just as well be me tumbling you to the ground to have my wicked way with you.’

  He didn’t smile. ‘A gentleman always takes care of his lover.’ He fell back to the bench beside her. ‘Would you dare kiss me like that—with so much abandon—if we were alone at your cottage?’

  In a heartbeat!

  Though she didn’t say that out loud.

  His words did give her pause, though. Xavier was unlike any man she’d ever met. If she pushed him beyond his limits there would be consequences.

  The thought made her break out in goosebumps.

  ‘You made me feel wild, free, reckless.’ He made her feel she could be anything she wanted.

  A low laugh rumbled out of him. ‘Mi tesoro, your kisses were wild and reckless. You could make a man forget himself.’

  They stared at each other.

  ‘Let me take you out tonight—for dinner and dancing.’

  It was the last thing she’d expected him to say.

  ‘No expectations,’ he added carefully. ‘It does not mean that I expect to end up in your bed at the end of the night.’

  It might just be that was exactly where she wanted him, though. Her pulse went mad.

  What if he tells you you’re not good enough?

  But what if he doesn’t?

  ‘I would just like to take you out.’

  ‘Why?’ she managed over the pounding of her heart.

  ‘Because I think now that I like you.’

  Warmth flooded her.

  ‘And I think, perhaps, you know now that you like me too.’

  She nodded.

  ‘We have cut through the worries and resentments that have constrained us. That makes me happy.’

  ‘So you would like to celebrate our...better understanding?’

  His lips tightened. ‘I have been difficult to work with. And you...you have had a lot to put up with on top of dealing with me. I would like to make amends.’

  He felt sorry for her?

  ‘Also, I would like the chance to kiss you again.’

  ‘Sold!’ She grinned as excitement shuffled through her.

  He frowned. ‘Does that mean yes?’

  ‘It’s a resounding yes.’

  He hesitated. ‘Wynne, I do not wish to give you a false impression.’

  She stilled. ‘Meaning...?’

  He took her hand and pressed a kiss to her wrist. ‘My marriage cured me of any desire to make a lasting commitment to any woman.’

  Her wrist throbbed and tingled. ‘And you think that’s what I want?’

  ‘I do not know...and I wouldn’t dare make any such presumption.’

  His qualification made her smile. He’d obviously been paying attention when she’d told him that he might want to rethink the way he phrased his words.

  ‘But you tell me you’re a good girl. So...’

  ‘It’s true. I am. That doesn’t mean I’m ready to settle for slippers and a hot water bottle just yet.’

  A fling with Xavier might be foolish, but it had been so long since she’d had anything but work and worry in her life. She craved the excitement, the temporary rush, the sheer headiness that being with him gave her.

  ‘I’ll make a deal with you. I promise not to be cruel as long as you promise not to be a no-hope loser.’

  His smile made her soul sing. ‘You have my word.’

  She moistened her lips. ‘There’s something else we need to settle. You’re the boss and I’m...not.’

  His nostrils flared. ‘I would never use my position to coerce you into—’ He halted at her raised hand.

  ‘I know that. But can you promise me that regardless of what happens this evening—or doesn’t happen—it will have no impact on the staff at the motel?’

  ‘You have my word of honour.’ His chin lifted. ‘I have already made the decision to keep your staff, Wynne. I have no intention of changing my mind.’

  She believed him. Honour meant something to this man.

  She pulled in a breath. She’d secured the safety of her staff’s jobs; her grandmother was safe. Surely that left her free to follow the reckless impulses of her heart.

  ‘Wynne?’

  Excitement and resolution balled in her chest. ‘You’re not looking for commitment, but that doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy the company of women, right? I would love to go out with you tonight.’

  He smiled and it stole her breath.

  ‘Woman,’ he corrected. ‘Tonight I’m only thinking of a single woman, Wynne, and that’s you.’

  The promise in his words made her toes curl.

  ‘I will meet you in the motel’s foyer at eight, yes?’

  She glanced at her watch. It would give her ju
st enough time to shower and dress. ‘Yes.’

  He seized her hand before she could scurry off to her car. ‘Tonight, Wynne, is all about what you want. I promise.’

  She didn’t do anything as prosaic as walk to her car. She floated.

  * * *

  He took her to a fancy beachfront tapas bar where they ate finger food and sipped cold beer from bottles. He looked dark and dangerous in black dress trousers and a navy shirt. The flash of his smile and his deep laugh turned him into a seductive pirate. All he was lacking was a gold earring.

  The appreciation that gleamed in his eyes when they rested on her made her glad she’d gone to the effort of donning her gladdest glad rags—a silk sheath dress in a riot of colour that slid across her skin in feather-light caresses whenever she moved.

  When their plates were cleared away, she said, ‘Tell me about your ex-wife.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Curiosity,’ she said, praying her shrug was a study in carelessness. ‘And you did say tonight was all about what I wanted, so I thought you might allay my curiosity. I take it she was one of these cruel women you find yourself drawn to?’

  The lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled upwards. ‘You are not a cruel woman. Maybe my taste is improving.’

  She stared down at the twinkling tea light enclosed in a mosaic glass holder. It sent flickers of red and blue dancing across the table. If he didn’t want to talk about Camilla, she wouldn’t force the matter.

  ‘How old are you, Xavier?’

  ‘Thirty-six.’

  ‘I’m thirty-three. And look—’ she opened her arms wide ‘—not a no-hope loser in sight. Maybe we’ve both reached a crucial stage in our personal development.’

  He reached out to trace a finger down her cheek. ‘You are worth far more than you give yourself credit for. Promise me that you will not waste yourself and your time on these men who are not worthy of you.’

  His eyes impelled her to say yes. She swallowed. ‘I’ll do my best.’

  ‘Promise me. You are a woman who does not give her promises away lightly. Give me your word.’

  She hesitated, and then nodded. ‘I promise.’