A Spanish Affair

Matt continued smoothly, “It doesn’t have to be complicated.”

The amusement in his dark face was the last straw. Georgie turned on him like a small green-eyed cat, her eyes spitting sparks as she shouted, “You are actually daring to proposition me? In cold blood?”

“Oh, is that what the matter is? You wanted a bouquet of red roses and promises of undying love and forever? Sorry, but I don’t believe in either….”

VIVA LA VIDA DE AMOR!

They speak the language of passion.

In Harlequin Presents® you’ll find a special kind of lover—full of Latin charm. Whether he’s relaxing in denims or dressed for dinner, giving you diamonds or simply sweet dreams, he’s got spirit, style and sex appeal!

Latin Lovers is the miniseries from Harlequin Presents® for anyone who enjoys hot romance!

Helen Brooks loves to write emotional stories about powerful heroes being tamed by warm, lively heroines. She’s created a Latin Lover to die for in A Spanish Affair…. Turn the page to meet Matt de Capistrano—a gorgeous tycoon no woman could resist!

A Spanish Affair

Helen Brooks

MILLS & BOON

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CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER ONE

‘THINGS are really that bad? But why on earth didn’t you tell me?’ Georgie’s sea-green eyes were wide with shock as she stared into her brother’s troubled face. ‘I could have helped in some way.’

‘How?’ Robert Millett shook his blond head slowly. ‘You couldn’t have done anything, Georgie, no one could, and there was still an element of hope before that last contract was pulled out from under our feet. Old man Sanderson really ducked and dived for that one. But, as he’s so fond of saying, all’s fair in love and war.’

Georgie’s smooth brow wrinkled in an angry frown. Mike Sanderson was a mean old man and she wouldn’t trust him as far as she could throw him, and as she was a tiny, slender five foot four to Mike’s burly six foot that wouldn’t be far! ‘He’s an out-and-out crook,’ she stated tightly. ‘I just don’t know how he can sleep at night with some of the tricks he pulls.’

‘Georgie, Georgie, Georgie.’ Robert pulled his sister into his arms and hugged her for a moment before pushing her away and looking down into her flushed face. ‘We both know Mike’s not to blame for the mess I’m in. I had to make some choices over the last months when Sandra was so ill, and even now I know I made the right ones. I don’t regret a thing. If the business fails, it fails.’

‘Oh, Robert.’ This was so unfair. When Robert had discovered his beloved wife, Sandra, was suffering from a rare blood disorder that meant she only had a few months to live, he had devoted himself to making her last days happy ones, and taking care of their seven-year-old twins, David and Annie, and trying to shield them from as much pain as possible as their mother slowly faded away. Sandra and Robert had told no one the true state of affairs—not even Georgie had known Sandra’s illness was terminal until four weeks before she had died.

That had been six months ago, and immediately she had understood what was happening. Georgie had packed her bags and left her wonderful, well-paid job in advertising and high-tailed it back to the family home to take some of Robert’s burden in the last traumatic weeks of Sandra’s illness.

She hadn’t had to think twice about such a step—Robert and Sandra had opened their arms to her when, as a bewildered little girl of ten and newly orphaned, she had needed love and care. Now, thirteen years later, it was her turn to repay the tenderness and warmth they had lavished on her, which hadn’t diminished a jot when their own children were born.

‘What about the de Capistrano deal? They’ve already offered us the contract, haven’t they? And the rewards would be brilliant.’ Sandra had run the office side of Robert’s building firm before she had become ill, and after a succession of temps had muddled through Georgie had had her work cut out the last few months to make sense of the paperwork. It didn’t help that after the funeral Robert had retreated into a world of his own for some time, the strain of being Sandra’s mainstay and support, as well as mother and father to the children, telling at last.

‘De Capistrano?’ Robert ran a tired hand through his thick hair, which immediately sprang back to its previous disorder.

Georgie noticed, with a little pang in her heart, that there were several strands of grey mixed with the honey-gold these days. But then that wasn’t surprising after all her big brother had been through, she thought painfully. They were all of them—David, Annie and herself—missing Sandra like mad, but Sandra had been Robert’s childhood sweetheart and her brother’s grief was overwhelming.

‘We’d need to take on more men and hire machinery to make it viable, and the bank’s screaming blue murder already. I had relied on the profit from this other job to finance de Capistrano’s.’

‘But we can go and see them and ask at least?’ Georgie’s small chin stuck out aggressively, as though she was already doing battle with the pinstriped brigade. ‘They aren’t stupid. They’ll be able to see the potential, surely?’

‘I’d have thought you were dead against the de Capistrano deal after all your “green” rallies and such at uni?’ Robert remarked quietly. ‘Animal rights, save the hedgerows, Greenpeace… You were into them all, weren’t you?’

Georgie stared at him, her heavily lashed eyes narrowing. Robert had been sixteen years of age when she was born, their parents having long since given up hope of ever having another child. Consequently his attitude had always been paternal, even before the car crash which had taken their parents, and she had often rebelled against his staid and—Georgie considered—prosaic views about a million and one subjects dear to her heart. But now was not the time to go into all that, she reminded herself, as she looked into the blue of his worried eyes.

‘That’s a separate issue,’ she said very definitely. ‘If it’s a case of the de Capistrano contract or virtual bankruptcy for you, I’ll take the contract.’

‘If they could hear you now…’ Robert summoned up something of a grin—his first one for days—which Georgie took as a good sign.

‘They can’t.’ It was succinct. ‘So, how about approaching the bank?’

‘Useless.’ It was clear all Robert’s normal get up and go had got up and gone. ‘I’ve got de Capistrano himself coming in later this morning and he won’t be interested in a building firm that’s on the rocks.’

Georgie searched her mind frantically. ‘Well, what about asking de Capistrano to finance the men and machinery on a short-term basis?’ she suggested brightly. ‘Once we got going we could pay him back fairly quickly, and it’s common knowledge he is something of an entrepreneur and filthy rich into the bargain.’

‘Exactly, and he hasn’t got that way by doing anyone any favours,’ Robert said cynically. ‘His reputation is as formidable as the man himself, so I understand, and de Capistrano is only interested in a fast turnover with huge profits. Face it, Georgie, he can go elsewhere and have no hassle. End of story.’

Her brother stretched his long, lanky body wearily in the big leather chair behind the desk strewn with the morning’s post, his blue eyes dropping to the fateful letter open in front of him. It stated that Sandersons—not Milletts—had been successful in securing the contract for the town’s new leisure complex. A contract which would have provided the profit margin to finance the extra men’s wages and hiring of the machinery for de Capistrano’s job.

‘But, Robert—’

‘No buts.’ Robert raised his head to take in his sister’s aggressive stance. ‘De Capistrano is a Sanderson type, Georgie. He knows all the right angles and the right people. Look at the deal we were going to discuss this morning; he negotiated that prime piece of land for a song some years ago and he’s been holding on to it until the time was right to build housing. He’ll get his outlay back a hundred times over on the sort of yuppie estate he is planning.’

‘Yes, well…’ Georgie wrinkled the small straight nose she’d inherited from her mother in disgust, unable to hide her real opinion any longer. ‘I’m sorry, but I have to say destroying that beautiful land is out-and-out sacrilege! People have enjoyed that ground as a park in the summer ever since I can remember and the wildlife is tremendous. Do you recall that rare butterfly being found there the year I started uni?’

‘Butterflies aren’t good business.’ Robert shrugged philosophically. ‘Neither are wild flowers and the like, come to that, or putting family first and being less than ruthless. Maybe if I’d been a bit more like the de Capistranos of this world my kids wouldn’t be in danger of losing the roof over their heads.’

‘Don’t say that,’ said Georgie fiercely, her eyes sparking green flames. ‘You’re the best father and husband and brother in the world. You’ve already admitted you’ve no regrets in putting Sandra first and it was absolutely the right thing to do. You’re ten times the man—a hundred times—de Capistrano will ever be and—’

‘Have we met?’

Two blonde heads shot round as though connected by a single wire and a pair of horrified green eyes and amazed blue surveyed the tall dark man standing in the doorway of the small brick building that was Robert’s office. The voice had been icy, and even if the slight accent hadn’t informed Georgie this was de Capistrano she would have known anyway. The impeccable designer suit and silk shirt and tie sat on the tall lean body in a way that positively screamed unlimited wealth, and the beautiful svelte woman standing just behind the commanding figure was equally well dressed. And equally annoyed if the look on the lovely face was anything to go by. His secretary? Or maybe his wife?

And then Georgie’s racing thoughts were focused on the man alone as he said again, ‘Have we met?’ and this time the voice had all the softness of a razor-sharp scalpel.

‘Mr de Capistrano?’ Georgie’s normally clear voice was more of a weak squeak, and as she cleared her throat nervously the black head nodded slowly, the deep, steel-grey eyes piercingly intent on her face. ‘I’m sorry… I didn’t know…’ She took a hard pull of air before continuing more coherently, ‘No, Mr de Capistrano, we haven’t met, and I have no excuse for my rudeness.’

‘So.’ The furious anger in the frosty face hadn’t diminished an iota.

‘Mr de Capistrano.’ Robert pulled himself together and strode across the room, extending his hand as he said, ‘Please understand. What you overheard was less a comment on you than an endeavour to hearten me. There was nothing personal intended. I’m Robert Millett, by the way, and this is my sister, Georgie.’

There was a pause which seemed to last for ever to Georgie’s tortured senses, and then the hand was accepted. ‘Matt de Capistrano.’ It was pithy. ‘And my secretary, Pepita Vilaseca.’

Georgie had followed her brother across to the others and as the two men shook hands she proffered her own to the immaculate figure at the side of the illustrious Mr de Capistrano. This time the pause was even longer and the lovely face was cold as the tall slim secretary extended a languid hand to Georgie, extracting it almost immediately with a haughty glance which said more clearly than any words could that she had done Georgie the most enormous favour. Pepita. Georgie looked into the beautifully made-up ebony eyes that resembled polished onyx. Sounded like an indigestion remedy to her!

And then, as Robert moved to shake the secretary’s hand, Georgie was forced to raise her eyes up to the dark gaze trained on her face, and acknowledge the reality of what she had imbibed seconds earlier. This was one amazingly…handsome? No, not handsome, her brain corrected in the next moment. Male. One amazingly male man. Overwhelmingly, aggressively male. The sort of man who exuded such a primal masculinity that the veneer of civilisation sat frighteningly lightly on his massive frame.

The leanly muscled body, the jet-black hair cropped uncompromisingly short, the hard good looks—

‘Do you always…encourage your brother by doing a character assassination on complete strangers, Miss Millett?’ Matt de Capistrano asked with arctic politeness, interrupting Georgie’s line of thought and forcing her to realise she had been staring unashamedly.

She turned scarlet. Help, she breathed silently. Get me out of this, someone. He had held out his hand to her and as she made herself shake his, and felt her nervously cold fingers enclosed in his firm hard grip that sent frissons of warmth down to her toes in a most peculiar way, her mouth opened and shut like a goldfish in a bowl before she was able to say breathlessly, ‘No, no, I don’t. Of course I don’t.’

‘Then why today and why me?’

His voice was very deep and of an almost gravelly texture, the slight accent turning it into pure dynamite, Georgie thought inappropriately. ‘I… You weren’t supposed to hear that,’ she said quickly, before she realised just how stupid that sounded.

‘I’d worked that one out all on my own,’ he said caustically.

Oh, how could she have been so unforgivably indiscreet? Georgie’s heart sank into her shoes. Her flat shoes. Which didn’t help her confidence at all with this huge six-foot avenging angel towering over her measly five foot four inches—or perhaps angel was the wrong description. ‘It was just an expression,’ she said weakly. ‘There was absolutely nothing personal in it, as Robert said.’

‘That actually makes it worse, Miss Millett.’ It was cutting. ‘When—or should I say if?—anyone had the temerity to insult me I would expect it to be for a well-thought-out and valid reason.’

Well, hang on just a tick and I’m sure I can come up with several, Georgie thought darkly, forcing a respectful nod of her head as she said out loud, ‘All I can do is to apologise again, Mr de Capistrano.’ Which is exactly what you want, isn’t it? Your full pound of flesh.

‘You work here?’

Georgie thought frantically. If she said yes it might be the final death knell to any faint hope Robert had of persuading this man to finance the cost of the new machinery for a short time, but if she said no and the deal did go through he’d soon know she’d been economical with the truth!

‘Temporarily,’ she compromised hesitantly.

‘Temporarily.’ The lethal eyes demanded an explanation, but Robert—tired of being virtually ignored—cleared his throat at the side of them in a way that demanded attention. Matt de Capistrano paid him no attention at all. ‘Does that mean you will be here for the foreseeable future, Miss Millett?’

Without your contract there isn’t a future. It was that thought which enabled Georgie to draw herself up straight and say, as she met the icy grey gaze head-on, ‘Not if you feel that would be inappropriate after what I’ve said, Mr de Capistrano.’

He blinked. Just once, but she saw she had surprised him. And then he swung round to face Robert, his dark aura releasing her as his piercing gaze left her hot face. ‘I came here today to discuss a proposed business deal,’ he said coldly, ‘and I am a very busy man, Mr Millett. You have the financial details ready which my secretary asked you to prepare?’

Robert gulped. ‘I do, Mr de Capistrano, but—’

‘Then as we have already wasted several minutes of valuable time I suggest we get down to business,’ Matt de Capistrano said tightly, cutting across Robert’s stumbling voice.

What an arrogant, ignorant, overbearing, high and mighty—Georgie’s furious adjectives came to a sudden halt as the grey eyes flicked her way again. ‘I trust you have no objection to that, Miss Millett?’ he asked softly, something in his face making it quite clear to Georgie he had known exactly what she was thinking. ‘I take it you are your brother’s…temporary secretary?’

Somehow, and she couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but somehow he made it sound insulting. ‘Yes, I am,’ she responded tightly.

‘How…convenient,’ he drawled smoothly.

‘Convenient?’ It was wary.

‘To have a ready-made job available like this rather than having to fight your way in the big bad world and prove yourself,’ was the—to Georgie—shocking answer.

How dared he? How dared he make assumptions about her just because she had ruffled his wealthy, powerful feathers? That last remark was just plain nasty. Georgie reared up like a small tigress, all thoughts of appeasement flying out of the window as she bit out, ‘I happen to be a very good secretary, Mr de Capistrano.’ She had worked her socks off as a temp all through the university holidays in order to be less of a financial burden on Robert—one of her ten GCSEs being that of Typing and Computer Literacy before her A Levels in Business Studies, English and Art and Design—and every firm the temping agency had placed her with had wanted her back.

‘Really?’ Her obvious annoyance seemed to diminish his. ‘You did a secretarial course at college?’

‘Not exactly.’ She glared at him angrily.

‘My sister graduated from university two years ago with a First in Art and Design,’ Robert cut in swiftly, sensing Georgie was ready to explode.

‘Then why waste such admirable talents working for big brother?’ He was speaking to her as though Robert and his secretary didn’t exist, and apart from the content of his words hadn’t acknowledged Robert had spoken. ‘Lack of ambition? Contentment with the status quo? Laziness? What?’

Georgie couldn’t believe her ears. ‘Now look here, you—’

Robert cut in again, his face very straight now and his voice holding a harsh note as he said, ‘Georgie left an excellent job a few months ago, Mr de Capistrano, in advertising—a job she was successful in obtaining over a host of other applicants, I might add. She did this purely for me and there is no question of it being a free ride here, if that is what you are suggesting. My wife used to run the office here but—’

‘You don’t have to explain to him.’ Georgie was past caring about the contract or anything else she was so mad.

‘But she died six months ago. Okay?’ Robert finished more calmly.

There was a screaming silence for a full ten seconds and Georgie moved closer to Robert, putting her hand on his arm. She noticed the secretary had done the same thing to Matt de Capistrano which seemed to suggest a certain closeness if nothing else.

‘I’m not sure that an apology even begins to cover such insensitivity, Mr Millett, but I would be grateful if you would accept it,’ the tall dark man in front of them said quietly. ‘I had no idea of your circumstances, of course.’

‘There was no reason why you should have.’ Robert’s voice was more resigned than anything now. He had the feeling Matt de Capistrano was itching to shake the dust of this particular building firm off his feet as quickly—and finally—as possible.

‘Perhaps not, but I have inadvertently added to your pain at this difficult time and that is unforgivable.’ The accent made the words almost quaint, but in view of the situation—and not least the big lean figure speaking them—there was nothing cosy about the scenario being played out in the small office.

‘Forget it.’ Robert waved a dismissive hand. ‘But it is the case that I find myself in somewhat changed circumstances. We discovered this morning we had lost some vital work, work which I had assumed would finance the extra men and hire of machinery I need for your job, Mr de Capistrano.’

‘Are you saying the estimate you supplied is no longer viable?’ The deep voice was now utterly businesslike, and Georgie—standing to one side of the two men—suddenly felt invisible. It was not a pleasant feeling.

‘Not exactly,’ Robert replied cautiously. ‘I can still do the job at the price I put forward, if my bank is prepared to finance the machinery and so on, but—’

‘They won’t,’ Matt de Capistrano finished for him coolly. ‘Are you telling me your business is in financial difficulties, Mr Millett?’

‘I’m virtually bankrupt.’

Georgie couldn’t stop the gasp of shock at hearing it put so baldly, and as the men’s heads turned her way she said quickly, without thinking about it, ‘Because he dedicated himself to his wife when she and the children needed him, Mr de Capistrano, not because he isn’t a good builder. He’s a great builder, the best you could get, and he never cuts corners like some I could mention. You can look at any of the work he’s done in the past and—’

‘Georgie, please.’ Robert was scarlet with embarrassment. ‘This is between me and Mr de Capistrano.’

‘But you are a fine builder,’ Georgie returned desperately. ‘You know you are but you won’t say so—’

‘Georgie.’ Robert’s voice was not loud but the quality of his tone told her she had gone as far as she could go.

‘I think it might be better if you waited in your office, Miss Millett,’ Matt de Capistrano suggested smoothly, nodding his head at the door through which her small cubby-hole of a place was situated.

Georgie longed to defy him—she had never longed for anything so much in all her life—but something in Robert’s eyes forced her to comply without another word.

For the first time since childhood she found herself biting her nails as she sat at her desk piled high with paperwork, the interconnecting door to Robert’s office now firmly shut. She could just hear the low murmur of voices from within, but the actual conversation was indistinguishable, and as time slipped by her apprehension grew.

How long did it take to rip up a contract and say bye-bye? she thought painfully. Matt de Capistrano wasn’t going to twist the knife in some way to pay her back for her rudeness, was he? Those few minutes in there had made it plain he’d never been spoken to like that before in his life, and a man like him didn’t take such an insult lying down. Not that she had actually spoken to him when she’d insulted him, just about him. She groaned softly. Her and her big mouth. Oh, why, why had he had to come in at that precise moment and why had she left the door to her office open so he’d heard every word? And Robert. Why hadn’t he told her how bad things were?

The abrupt opening of the door caught her by surprise and she raised anxious green eyes to see Matt de Capistrano looking straight at her, a hard, speculative gleam in the dark grey eyes. ‘Daydreaming, Miss Millett?’

The tone of his voice could have indicated he was being friendly, lightly amusing in a pleasant teasing fashion, but Georgie was looking into his face—unlike the two behind him—and she knew different. ‘Of course. What else do temporary secretaries do?’ she answered sweetly, her green eyes narrowing as she stared her dislike.

He smiled, moving to stand by her desk as he said, ‘I intend to phone your brother tonight from Scotland after certain enquiries have been made. The call will be of vital importance so can you make sure the line is free?’