- -
- 100%
- +
Walking across the faded Aubusson rug to the beautiful old armoire, she picked out one of her ‘all occasions’ dresses. In pale cream silk it was equally suitable for an up-town business meeting or supper with friends. It was the dress she chose when she didn’t want to look as if she was trying too hard. She teamed it with a pair of discreet nude-coloured sandals, then applied some shadow to her eyes, and some lipgloss. Now she was ready to face the tiger in his lair.
It was hard to remain tense in such a beautiful setting, Maxie realised as she walked across the room. Mellow evening light was streaming through the French doors dressed with filmy white muslin, while the open windows brought the scent of the beautifully tended gardens into the room. The bedroom was incredibly feminine, with several flower arrangements she had no doubt Maria had arranged, while a grand old four-poster bed took centre stage. Draped with floating ivory fabric, it had a beautiful hand-stitched quilt that picked up all the various pastel shades. She would never choose to decorate a room so prettily herself, but she loved it so much it made her wonder if she’d grown up practical because she’d had to be, or if practical was her nature. The only certainty was that tonight she was having supper with an unpredictable man, Maxie concluded. And he was probably counting down the seconds until she left.
‘Diego!’ It took her a moment to gather herself when she found him standing outside her room. ‘Are you waiting for me?’
He was leaning against the wall, and the look he gave her suggested Maxie was in serious danger of flattering herself. ‘I was on my way down to supper,’ he said, giving her a lazy once-over. ‘I presume that’s where you’re heading too?’
She was burning from his scrutiny while he looked amazing. How was it that some people only had to throw on a pair of jeans and any old top to look good? She could smell the soap from his shower, and his thick black hair was still a little damp and curling wildly round his swarthy face, catching on his stubble. But when he straightened up and she saw the cane propped against the wall she knew he had probably stopped outside her room because his leg was hurting him, and as they walked towards the head of the stairs she tried to measure her step to his without making it seem too obvious. His leg seemed stiffer than ever tonight, and she wondered if the damp weather had affected it. Hanging back, she could see how heavily he was relying on his cane.
He was glad Maxie was behind him and couldn’t see the surprise on his face. Discovering the young tomboy transformed into a poised and confident woman had been a revelation to him. But why was he surprised? She was a successful businesswoman. He just hadn’t had it thrust in his face before. She looked stunning in the simple dress, and he could imagine her walking into a meeting and getting any terms she wanted out of her suppliers—an image that irritated him when he thought of the men she would meet in the course of her work. Perhaps Ruiz was right about the route to rehabilitation and relaxation.
Right on cue the muscles in his leg stabbed a warning that he was more likely to grind his jaw in pain than soften his lips to seduce Maxie.
‘I love your house,’ she commented as they walked downstairs.
‘It isn’t strictly mine,’ he said, putting her straight. ‘The family shares it.’
‘Don’t you think that’s why it’s so lovely?’ she said, pausing to examine an old oil painting of some disreputable-looking ancestor.
The Acosta men hadn’t changed that much, he reflected, then, realising Maxie was waiting for him, wondered if she was taking it slowly on purpose—making allowances for him?
‘I think it’s a real family home,’ she said, oblivious to his blackening mood.
‘Yes, it is,’ he said, waiting for her to go first before he tackled the last flight of stairs.
‘Don’t you love this hallway?’ she said, trailing her slender fingers down the mahogany banister as she reached the hall ahead of him.
He concentrated on her naked shoulders and the cascade of silky black hair tumbling in luxuriant waves to her waist. This led him on the shortest of journeys to the neat curve of her buttocks, clearly visible beneath the clinging fabric of her dress.
‘Well, I think it’s perfect!’ she said, turning to look at him.
‘I can’t see much wrong with it,’ he agreed.
‘How wonderful to have holidayed here when you were children. I love visiting houses like this.’
The last girl he had brought to the palacio had asked for the ‘powder room’ in order to touch up her make-up. Then she’d told him she hated the house. It was so dated, she said, proceeding to give him a list of requirements for her next visit. Fortunately the sea had been calm that day. He’d shipped her out on the next boat.
Maria was in the kitchen with an array of dishes that would have fed an army of gourmands. He ate in silence, while Maxie and Maria chatted away like old friends. Maxie handed him an agenda of things she wanted to cover, and he might have been surprised by her approach if he hadn’t seen her dressed for business as she was tonight. He accepted the paper from her, glanced at it, and got on with his meal, wondering again about the tomboy who could transform herself so convincingly into a sophisticated businesswoman in no time flat. Did she have a boyfriend—a lover? Maybe she had children? He didn’t know anything about her. Maybe she was married? That thought made him tense.
When they had finished the meal and the dishes were being cleared away—a duty Maxie had insisted on sharing with Maria—she tossed him a cloth. ‘Wipe the table down, will you?’ she asked him casually. ‘While I load the dishwasher?’
He stared at the cloth in his hands while Maria, clearly in shock, bustled across the room to take it from him. His grip on the cloth tightened. ‘Take the rest of the evening off,’ he told Maria. ‘You deserve it. And thank you for a delicious supper.’
‘Gracias, Señor…’ Maria said, backing out of the kitchen as if she never wanted to forget the sight of him holding a cleaning cloth.
Maxie had her back turned to him as she continued clearing up. When she’d switched the dishwasher on, she straightened up and turned round. ‘Would you like to see the shots I’ve taken so far?’
Remembering the quicker Maxie got what she’d come for, the quicker he could be alone again, he said, ‘Why not?’
He had to admit Maxie surprised him yet again. She might be an excellent wedding planner, but her photographs were also out of the ordinary. She had shown the island in a way he’d never seen it before, highlighting aspects which transformed it from a forbidding prison into a treasure trove of possibilities. Seeing Isla del Fuego through Maxie’s eyes was a revelation to him.
‘Is something wrong?’ she asked when he grimaced.
‘No. Everything’s good.’ Except his leg, which was cramping again. ‘Your photographs are very good.’
‘Thank you.’ She turned to go. ‘An early night for me, I think,’ she advised him as she headed for the door.
Animal instincts battled with his common sense, while his leg screamed in protest. ‘Buenas noches, señorita,’ he ground out as she left the room.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.