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Of course here, out of the public eye, the usual rules didn’t apply. It would be an interesting challenge to see just what it took to make Dr Anna Gray put down her pen and notepad, wipe those frown lines off her forehead and smile. Interesting, but all too risky. He’d known Anna for less than three hours and he already knew that she was the type who would always dig deeper—and that made her dangerous. Besides, he was pretty sure she didn’t understand the ‘good time’ rule and that made her absolutely off-limits.
‘Hit me.’ He pushed his coffee cup to one side, propping his elbows on the table as he turned towards Anna. ‘What’s first?’
Anna brushed a lock of dark hair away from her forehead and Leo froze, awareness of her every movement shivering through him. For one endless second she was imprinted on him, her long graceful neck, her sweep of long, wavy hair, the shrewd expression in her clear blue eyes, and the vulnerability he saw behind them, a vulnerability he sensed was usually kept well hidden.
‘First?’
Leo nodded at the notebook Anna carried like a talisman. ‘On your list.’
‘Oh.’ Her hand lay over the page protectively. ‘I’ve put together a list of supplies we need before we can really get started so I think I need to take a trip over to the mainland today. There really isn’t any time to waste.’ She glared meaningfully at his plate. ‘Mama, I’ll need to take your dinghy. Is that okay? Is the car still kept in the same place?’
‘No need to borrow your mother’s boat. I’ll sail you over.’ Leo sat back in his chair and watched Anna try and come up with an excuse to avoid his company.
Anna blinked. ‘There’s no point taking your boat such a short distance.’
‘No, but my dinghy is at your dock.’
Sancia glanced from Leo to Anna, her expression amused. ‘The car is parked in the harbour lot as always, querida. There’s a big store on the outskirts of town, about five kilometres from the harbour. You can’t miss it.’
‘Right.’ Anna pushed her chair back and stood up. ‘Let’s go.’
Leo didn’t move.
She tapped her foot, her eyes gleaming dangerously. ‘In your own time, señor.’
Sancia sighed, shaking her head at her daughter. ‘Querida, you are in Spain now. The store will be closed for siesta. There’s no point in going now.’
‘A siesta sounds like an excellent suggestion.’ Leo winked at Anna. ‘I’ll see you at the jetty in two hours, Dr Gray. Bring your lists.’ And he stood up. ‘Thank you, Sancia, that was delicious.’ He bowed over Sancia’s hand and tossed another wink in Anna’s direction before sauntering away, fully aware that Anna was glaring at him. His back prickled with awareness; he could almost feel the burn as her eyes bored into him.
Funny to think he had had no agenda this morning beyond popping over to what he had assumed to be a perfectly run luxury resort in order to reassure his sister. Now he had a month’s work ahead of him and a hostile colleague. He couldn’t wait to get started.
* * *
Anna stared down at the bucket of tepid, dirty water resentfully. She’d decided not to waste the two hours her mother and Leo were choosing to spend sleeping and instead had got started scrubbing down the outside of a couple of bungalows. Not that she had got very far. Right now getting the island into any kind of order seemed like a Sisyphean task—especially if long lunches and longer siestas were going to be the order of the day.
Still, at least she had made a start. She would get the groundskeeper and chambermaid to continue while she was on the mainland; but she really needed to talk to her mother and find out when the seasonal staff were due to start, and how many they were expecting. Without adequate staffing they would never get the island ready in time. Luckily the interiors of the bungalows were in a better state than she’d expected. They needed some cosmetic work, a good clean, taps and showers fixing, a quick paint, but the furniture was still good, simple, but well-crafted. A few luxurious touches, new cushions, rugs and accessories should bring them up to date. After all, if Valentina wanted marble and gilt she would have booked a hotel. She was after an authentic Spanish touch and that, at least, La Isla Marina could provide.
Picking up the bucket, Anna tipped the water down the drain. She’d worked her way through several buckets of water, lugging them to the desired spot, sloshing water down her legs as she did so. Her hands were red, two nails already broken. She made a mental note to add gloves to her list.
Had it really only been half an hour of work? It felt like eternity and she had barely started. This morning she’d been full of a sense of purpose, if a little daunted. Now she just felt like Cinderella, toiling away while the rest of the household slumbered, and just because she had volunteered for domestic drudgery didn’t mean she couldn’t help feeling resentful. She wouldn’t mind so much if Rosa weren’t swanking about somewhere, carefree, on the other side of the world, if her mother didn’t look at her as if she were being fussy, if Leo di Marquez hadn’t shown up...
Anna pushed her hair off her forehead, grimacing as she realised just how sweaty she was. What was Leo’s deal anyway? What kind of man just decided to put a month aside for his sister’s wedding with no planning, no notice? Placing the bucket on the floor, Anna tried to stop her mind dwelling on the planes of Leo’s chest, the strong, sensual mouth, his mocking eyes. He knew how attractive he was all right—and there was nothing Anna distrusted more than a man convinced of his own worth, his own desirability. After all, she’d been taken in before, been badly burnt before.
She’d mishandled him from the first, allowing him to put her on the back foot even though he was the trespasser. It wouldn’t—couldn’t—happen again. She needed weapons, she needed armour, she needed control, she needed facts.
Her mother and sister might rely on intuition and spontaneity, but there was much more comfort in knowledge and plans. That was why she had become an academic, not because of her father’s pre-eminence or because it was expected of her, but because she liked to dig deep, to find out the facts, to draw her own interpretation. If Leo’s sister was some kind of media star then it shouldn’t be too hard to find out exactly who he was, what he was. And then she would be prepared.
Mind made up, Anna headed back to the villa, letting herself through the hidden door that separated the public spaces from the family’s private rooms. The wooden staircase was narrow and dark as she climbed all the way to the top floor and the turret bedroom that had been hers since she was a baby. Nothing had changed: the same iron bedstead stood in the corner, the same pictures hung on the whitewashed walls, the same colourful blankets were heaped on the bed. It was sparse and small, but Anna liked the memories of when they had been a proper family, Rosa in the other turret, her parents nearby, her grandparents still alive.
A pang of guilt hit her at the thought of her father home alone, rattling around their huge Oxford house. She’d left him a schedule, all his pills laid out ready, labelled meals in the freezer for the evenings he didn’t dine in college. And she’d promised to text him reminders every day—he probably wouldn’t even notice she was gone. She bit her lip, his lined, grey face clear in her mind. The only time he had ever relaxed was here on the island, when he would push his research and work aside for a few days, sometimes even weeks. When had he last taken a real holiday? Not since Sancia had left him. Left them.
Her laptop was already set up on the desk, her notebooks stacked neatly by its side, colour-coded by theme. Anna averted her eyes from the notebooks, an all too visual reminder that she still had no book, not even the bare bones of one. The usual wave of nausea swirled low in her stomach, the age-old fear that she would be revealed as an imposter, a fraud, whispering in her mind. Had she really thought that if she ran away to the island her doubts would stay meekly in Oxford? They were just as strong as ever—except when she had been engrossed in painting. Except when she had been sparring with Leo di Marquez... Pushing her notebooks to one side, she switched on her laptop, typed in Valentina’s name and began to read.
Half an hour later Anna sat back and stared at the screen; she still had no idea what Valentina did or why she was famous. Sure, the curvy brunette modelled, but she’d started modelling after she had got famous; for all her prominence she was a little shorter, a little bustier than the usual top models. Valentina seemed to spend her time photographing herself, her friends, her clothes and her food and posting the pictures up for comment. And she received them in their thousands, more, hundreds of thousands. Anna frowned as she looked at the photo posted just this morning, a photo of breakfast laid out on a patio table, every colour popping off the screen. How on earth was this a job? Judging by the lavish apartment, the designer clothes, the parties, it was lucrative even if it made no sense.
Most of the recent posts and tweets focussed on the forthcoming wedding. Anna’s stomach clenched as she read through them; Valentina’s expectations were high and the results would be instantly seen around the world. If they could make it a success then the island’s fortunes would turn around overnight, but if they failed then they would fall very publicly. She had no choice; if there was to be any chance of pulling this off she simply had to work with Leo.
Except not once had she seen his name mentioned. Valentina made reference to growing up on the Barcelona coast, to working in a beach bar, to her mother, who had died a few years back—but there was no mention of a brother or a father. Not one.
Okay, then more research was needed. Anna poised her fingers over the keyboard for a second and then typed in Leo di Marquez y Correa.
‘Bingo,’ she said softly. The picture on the very first link looked very familiar indeed. The same close-cropped dark hair, the same sharp cheekbones set off by stubble too perfect to be completely natural. This Leo was dressed a lot more formally, in a light grey suit, a smiling blonde in a skin-tight dress hanging off his arm. Anna read the caption. ‘Leo’s new model.’ Hmm, it looked as if he was as at home in the gossip pages as his sister.
‘He’s not a pirate, he’s a playboy,’ she muttered as she brought up article after article. Leo on his boat, bare-chested in the sun, Leo in a casino, on a superyacht surrounded by the most glamorous people Anna had ever seen, Leo spraying champagne. Her stomach tightened. ‘Spoilt, rich boys.’ She could taste the contempt, bitter on her tongue.
The facts were there in clear black and white. Not just spoilt, not just rich, but Spanish aristocracy. The only son—only child—of the Conde de Olvares, a haughty grey-haired man, and his even haughtier-looking wife, Leo had been a fixture on the party scene since he was eighteen years old. No job, no occupation beyond sailing, gambling, drinking and women.
Anna stood up and stalked over to the window. From her vantage point high in the tower she could see the jetty and the gleaming boat moored out in the sea. A boat he hadn’t worked to buy, a toy for a pampered princeling. Disappointment twisted her chest and she had no idea why. She didn’t know Leo, and it wasn’t as if she had liked what she had seen after all. Well, not beyond the physical at least. It was just she hadn’t expected anything quite this shallow.
Anna knew the type all too well. They weren’t as prevalent at Oxford as they had once been, but there were still plenty of entitled lordlings, their places secured by their name, their lineage, their education, their futures assured no matter what. They didn’t care what anyone thought about them, didn’t care what the consequences of their actions might be. At eighteen she might have been stupid enough to mistake that arrogant confidence for magnetism, found the frivolity and extravagance glamorous, but not any more. Now she valued work, reliability, sense. Old-fashioned values maybe, but her values.
And not only was Leo di Marquez a playboy, he was a liar. Valentina wasn’t his sister, he was an only child. So what on earth was he doing here?
* * *
Of course he was late. Anna had known he would be and yet she had still arrived at the jetty at the agreed time, her shorts swapped for light cotton trousers, her T-shirt for a loose shirt, her notebook tucked away in a waterproof bag.
She’d deliberated sailing across alone and not waiting for Leo, but she wanted answers. Nothing added up. Why did a party playboy want to spend a month doing DIY on a tiny island with barely any inhabitants, no nightlife, no fun? And why had he claimed Valentina was his sister when she clearly wasn’t?
She squinted over to the boat, lounging out in the flat sea like the embodiment of entitlement, blowing out a frustrated breath when she saw a tall figure swing over the side and climb down to the dinghy bobbing alongside. Finally.
It didn’t take her long to walk to the end of the jetty, arriving there just as Leo executed a perfect, stylish turn to bring the small open boat alongside. ‘Hop in,’ he called. ‘Unless you need me to help you?’ He held out a hand, which Anna ignored as she stepped gingerly into the boat, seating herself at the furthest end away from Leo. He barely waited until she was seated before releasing the throttle and, with a roar, the boat sped off towards the mainland.
Despite her trepidation Anna found herself relaxing on the short trip, leaning against the back rail enjoying the sun on her face, the splash of the water on her outstretched hand as the boat cut through the sea. In Oxford, she saw students punting or kayaking all the time and yet never made time to get out onto the water herself, which was odd when she remembered just what a water baby she had always been on the island; surfing, windsurfing, boating, swimming until her skin wrinkled, her hair thick with salt.
Steering the boat towards the public harbour, Leo found a mooring spot right next to the main jetty. Small boats bobbed all around, larger cruisers and yachts moored further out in the deeper water. Anna could see the perfect curve of the beach to one side, deserted despite the sun, and the cheerful fronts of the bars and restaurants that lined the shore road behind it. Cala del Mar had seemed like the height of sophistication when Anna was in her teens. Now she saw it as the sleepy, provincial seaside village it was, all the fonder of it for its simplicity.
Leo killed the engine then turned and eyed Anna quizzically as she stayed seated, making no attempt to climb out of the boat. ‘Are you stuck?’
‘Why are you here?’
‘That’s a very philosophical question. Why are any of us here?’ But the laughter drained out of his dark eyes despite the easy smile on his face.
‘You know what I mean. Why have you decided to stay on the island? Why announce your intention of helping? What does the son of the Conde de Olvares want with a tiny island resort? There’s no casino, no nightclub, no supermodels to entertain you.’
‘Someone’s been doing her homework.’ The smile still played around his mouth, but there was an edge to his voice.
Anna raised her chin. ‘It’s all a matter of public record, as is the fact you’re an only child. So why did you tell me Valentina was your sister?’
The smile disappeared, his eyes hardening to flints. ‘Because she is. And she wants the perfect wedding and I am going to make sure that happens. Any other questions, Sherlock Holmes, or shall we get on with the matter at hand?’ And without looking at Anna he climbed out of the boat and started along the jetty, head high, back ramrod straight. Anna stared at the set shoulders, the jerky stride. Somehow she had touched a nerve without getting any of the answers she sought and although Leo was the one lying, or at least omitting information, Anna felt as if she was the one in the wrong.
She blew out a frustrated breath before getting carefully to her feet and stepping out of the boat onto the dusty jetty. This wasn’t over and she would get her answers. Leo di Marquez was playing some kind of game and Anna wasn’t going to stop until she had worked out just what he was up to.
CHAPTER FOUR
LEO STEPPED BACK and surveyed the wooden wall, an unexpected pride swelling his chest. If he said so himself it looked rather professional. Sanding, filling and painting were proving to be unexpectedly soothing, each finished wall or window frame a tangible achievement in a way a successful deal or investment no longer seemed to be. Maybe that was because money was such an abstract thing. He didn’t exactly sit counting gold coins, had more than enough, even for his fairly lavish needs.
Leo put the paintbrush back on the tray and stretched before reaching for his task list, a wry grin curving his mouth as he scanned the typed list, complete with timings and required equipment. Anna had, with the help of her trusty notebook, worked out a plan. A plan, Leo had not failed to notice, which kept him at one side of the island and her at the other. Nor could he help noticing that she no longer broke for lunch, and although she joined Sancia, himself and the staff for dinner she was usually distracted, spending the meal making even more lists or researching fixtures and fittings rather than joining in the conversation. He had a strong suspicion she was avoiding him.
Como sea. Let her keep her distance. Sure, he had enjoyed the brief one-sided flirtation, had thought it might be amusing to—metaphorically at least—unbutton the terminally uptight doctor, but there were limits to even his amusement and those limits had been reached when Anna had rounded on him with a scornful expression he knew only too well. It was the same expression he saw on his parents’ faces. The expression he sometimes saw in the mirror.
Still, over the last few days he had almost reached a state of contentment. It was repetitive work, this washing, sanding, filling and painting, but it had an end goal. Each task added up to a whole, a newly restored bungalow. Well, an almost restored bungalow because along with the repainting of the outside Leo was making a list of all the more specialised tasks that needed doing: the dripping taps, the underperforming showers, the broken tiles, the holes in roofs.
Right now it was just he and Anna with their buckets and ladders and paintbrushes. At the start of next week they would be joined by the seasonal staff including three more groundsmen and, for a week, a plumber, a joiner and a builder. That would leave two weeks for any internal repainting, replacement of furniture and adding in all the extras Valentina and her friends would expect to find in a luxury hotel. Anna seemed to spend any time she wasn’t painting flicking through lifestyle blogs and upmarket magazines, every session resulting in even more copious notes and yet another list.
The full-time groundsman and maid were equally hard at work on the public and communal areas. With three separate beach bars as well as the main bar and restaurant, two lounges and the beautiful central pagoda, where the marriage ceremony was to be carried out, they had their work cut out and Maria, the maid, was volubly looking forward to the arrival of her seasonal counterparts to help share the load. The island might shut over the winter, but it still seemed like a particularly sparse skeleton staff when the off season was surely the time to refresh and repair?
How on earth had this place survived over the last few years? Sancia swung from relaxed to mildly concerned—on the surface anyway—but Leo occasionally saw a flash of worry in the dark eyes when yet another dozen items were added to Anna’s seemingly inexhaustible lists.
‘Here, Sancia sent this for you.’
A soft voice pulled him away from his thoughts and Leo turned, list still in hand, to see Anna standing under the shade of the overgrown copse of trees. His breath caught. Her mass of dark hair was pulled up into a ponytail, she wasn’t wearing a scrap of make-up and her cut-off denims and simple navy T-shirt were strictly utilitarian yet a quiver of attraction still ran through him.
His gaze dropped to the tray she clasped tightly in her hands. It held a plate heaped with a roll, sliced meat and fresh tomatoes and a bottle of beer.
Anna held it out towards him. ‘You missed lunch.’
Leo glanced at his watch. Sure enough it was nearly three. ‘I got a little carried away.’
‘Obviously.’ She took a step nearer, eyes crinkled as she looked critically at the walls. ‘It’s looking good though.’
‘Does that surprise you?’
‘Yes,’ she said and, jolted by surprise, Leo looked at her.
‘Okaaaay...’ he said slowly.
‘I thought you’d get bored after a couple of days, or you would spend most of your days lounging around on your boat, spend an hour with a paintbrush in your hand and expect us to fall at your feet in gratitude. But, you have more than pulled your weight.’ She took a visibly deep breath. ‘I was wrong.’
‘Sí.’ But he couldn’t bring himself to labour the point. She had good reasons for her misconceptions, reasons Leo himself had planted. He couldn’t blame her, just because for some reason he wanted her to look deeper. Wanted her to look beyond the playboy image and see what lay underneath—if anything lay beneath. He doubted it, but if there was anything there then surely Dr Anna Gray was the kind of woman to excavate it.
‘So.’ She hefted the tray up awkwardly. ‘Are you hungry?’
He was ravenous, he realised. Nothing like sheer physical labour to get a man’s appetite going. ‘Sí,’ he said again, taking the tray from her and heading over to the wrought-iron patio table each bungalow was furnished with, perfect for al fresco dining. This particular table was positioned to take advantage of the sea views and to get shelter from the midday sun and as Leo lowered himself onto the cool seat he realised how very hot and thirsty he was.
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