“You want me, I want you—it is the most natural thing in the world.”

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?’

‘Certainly.’ She knew exactly what he was implying and now added, ‘I’ll let all my friends and my hairdresser and beautician know not to call me then, shall I?’ in helpful, dulcet tones.

His mouth tightened; it clearly wasn’t often he was answered in like vein. ‘Just so.’ The harsh face could have been set in stone. ‘I shall be working to a tight schedule so time is of the essence.’

‘Absolutely, Mr de Capistrano.’

The grey gaze held her one more moment and then he swept past her, the secretary and Robert at his heels, and as the door closed behind them Georgie sank back in her seat and let out a big whoosh of a sigh. Horrible man! Horrible, horrible man! She ignored the faint odour of expensive aftershave and the way it was making her senses quiver and concentrated her mind on loathing him instead.

She could hear the sound of voices outside the building and surmised they must all be standing in the little yard, and, after rising from her chair, she peeped cautiously through the blind at the window.

Matt de Capistrano and his secretary were just getting into a chauffeur-driven silver Mercedes, and even from this distance he was intimidating. Not that he had intimidated her, Georgie told herself strongly in the next moment, not a bit of it, but he was one of those men who was uncomfortably, in-your-face male. There was a sort of dark power about him, an aggressive virility that was impossible to ignore, and it was…Georgie searched for the right word and found it. Disturbing. He was disturbing. But he was leaving now and with any luck she would never set eyes on him again.

And then she suddenly realised what she was thinking and offered up a quick urgent prayer of repentance. Robert’s whole business, his livelihood, everything hung on Matt de Capistrano giving him this contract; how could she—for one second—wish he didn’t get it? But she hadn’t, she hadn’t wished that, she reassured herself frantically the next moment, just that she wouldn’t see Matt de Capistrano again. But if Robert got the job—by some miracle—of course she’d have to see him if she continued working here. ‘Oh…’ She sighed again, loudly and irritably. The man had got her in such a state she didn’t know what she was thinking!

‘Well!’ Robert opened the door and he was smiling. ‘We might, we just might be back in business again.’

‘Really?’ Georgie forgot all about her dislike of Matt de Capistrano as the naked hope in her brother’s face touched her heart. ‘He’s going to help?’

‘Maybe.’ Robert was clearly trying to keep a hold on his optimism but he couldn’t disguise his relief as he said, ‘He’s not dismissed it out of hand anyway. It all depends on that phone call tonight and then we’ll know one way or the other. He’s going to make some enquiries. I can’t blame him; I’d do the same in his shoes.’

‘Enquiries?’ Georgie raised fine arched eyebrows. ‘With whom?’

‘Anyone he damn well wants,’ Robert answered drily. ‘I’ve given him a host of names and numbers—the bank manager, my accountant, firms we’ve dealt with recently and so on—and told him I’ll ring them and tell them to let him have any information he wants. This is my last hope, Georgie. If the man tells me to jump through hoops I’ll turn cartwheels as well for good measure.’

‘Oh, Robert.’ She didn’t want him to lose everything, she didn’t, but to be rescued by Matt de Capistrano! And it was only in that moment she fully acknowledged the extent of the antagonism which had leapt into immediate life the moment she had laid eyes on the darkly handsome face. She didn’t know him, she’d barely exchanged more than a dozen words with him, and yet she disliked him more intensely than anyone else she had ever met. Well, almost anyone. Her thoughts touched on Glen before she closed that particular door in her mind.

‘So, cross your fingers and your toes and anything else it’s physically possible to cross,’ Robert said more quietly now, a nervous note creeping in as they stared at each other. ‘If it’s no we’re down the pan, Georgie; even the house is mortgaged up to the hilt so the kids won’t even have a roof over their heads.’

‘They will.’ Georgie’s voice was fierce. ‘We’ll make sure of that and we’ll all stay together too.’ But a little grotty flat somewhere wouldn’t be the same as Robert’s pleasant semi with its big garden and the tree-house he had built for the children a couple of years ago. They had lost their mother and all the security she had embodied; were they going to have to lose their home too?

‘Maybe.’ And then as Georgie eyed him determinedly Robert smiled as he said, ‘Definitely! But let’s hope it won’t come to uprooting the kids, Georgie. Look, get the bank on the phone for me first, would you? I need to put them and everyone else in the know and explain they’ll be getting a call from de Capistrano’s people. I don’t want anyone else to tread on his very wealthy and powerful toes.’

Georgie looked sharply at Robert at that, and was relieved to see he was grinning at her. ‘I’m sorry about what I said,’ she said weakly. ‘I didn’t know he was there. I nearly died when I saw him.’

‘You and me both.’ Robert shook his head slowly. ‘I’d forgotten there’s never a dull moment around you, little sister.’

‘Oh, you.’

The rest of the day sped by in a flurry of phone-calls, faxes and hastily typed letters, and by the end of the afternoon Georgie was sick of the very sound of Matt de Capistrano’s name. Yesterday her life had been difficult—juggling her new role as surrogate mum, cook and housekeeper, Robert’s secretary and shoulder to cry on wasn’t easy—but today a tall, obnoxious stranger had made it downright impossible, she thought crossly just before five o’clock. Robert had been like a cat on a hot tin roof all day and neither of them had been able to eat any lunch.

One thing had solidified through the hectic afternoon, though. If Matt de Capistrano bailed them out she was leaving here as soon as she could fix up a good secretary for Robert. She could get heaps more money working at temping anyway, and every little bit would help the family budget for the time being. And temping meant she could be there for the children if either of them were ill, without worrying Robert would be struggling at the office, and she could pick and choose when she worked. She might even be able to do a little freelance advertising work if she took a few days out to tote her CV and examples of her artwork designs round the area.

Her previous job, as a designer working on tight deadlines and at high speed for an independent design studio situated north of Watford had been on the other side of London—Robert’s house and business being in Sevenoaks—but there were other studios and other offices.

Whatever, she would remove herself from any chance of bumping into Matt de Capistrano. Georgie nodded to the thought, her hands pausing on the keyboard of her word processor as she gazed into space, only to jump violently as the telephone on her desk rang shrilly.

She glanced at her wristwatch as she reached for the receiver. Five o’clock. Exactly. It was him! She ignored the ridiculous churning in her stomach and breathed deeply, her voice steady and cool as she said, ‘Millett’s Builders. How can I help you?’

‘Miss Millett?’ The deep voice trickled over her taut nerves gently but with enough weight to make them twang slightly. ‘Matt de Capistrano. Is your brother there?’

‘Yes, Mr de Capistrano, he’s been waiting for your call,’ Georgie said briskly.

‘Thank you.’

Boy, with a voice like that he’d be dynamite on the silver screen—Sean Connery eat your heart out! Georgie thought flusteredly as she buzzed Robert and put the call through. Deep and husky with the faint accent making it heart-racingly sexy— And then she caught her errant ramblings firmly, more than a little horrified at the way her mind had gone. He was a hateful man, despicable. End of story.

She heard the telephone go down in the other office and when, a moment later, the interconnecting door opened with a flourish she knew. Even before Robert spoke his beaming face told her what the outcome of Matt de Capistrano’s enquiries had been. They were in business.

CHAPTER TWO

‘WE MEET again, Miss Millett.’ In spite of the fact that Georgie had been steeling herself all morning for this encounter, her head snapped up so sharply she felt a muscle in her neck twang.

A full week had elapsed since that day in Robert’s office when she had first seen Matt de Capistrano, and it was now the first day of May and a beautiful sunny morning outside the building. Inside Georgie felt the temperature had just dropped about ten degrees as she met the icy grey eyes watching her so intently from the doorway.

‘Good morning, Mr de Capistrano.’ There was no designer suit today; he was dressed casually in black denim jeans and a pale cream shirt and if anything the dark aura surrounding him was enhanced tenfold. Georgie knew he and Robert were going on site for most of the day, along with Matt de Capistrano’s architects and a whole host of other people, but she hadn’t bargained for what the open-necked shirt and black jeans which sat snugly on lean male hips would do to her equilibrium. She wanted to swallow nervously but she just knew the grey gaze would pick up the action, and so she said, a little throatily, ‘Robert is waiting for you if you’d like to go through?’ as she indicated her brother’s office with a wave of her hand.

‘Thank you, but I wish to have a word with you first.’

Oh, help! He was going to come down on her like a ton of bricks for her rudeness a week ago. He held all the cards and he knew it. He could make their lives hell if he wanted. Georgie raised her small chin a fraction and her voice betrayed none of her inward agitation as she looked into the dark attractive face and said quietly, ‘Yes, Mr de Capistrano?’

Her little cubby-hole, which was barely big enough to hold her desk and chair and the filing cabinet, and barely warranted the grand name of an office, was covered by one male stride, and then he was standing at the side of her as he said, ‘Firstly, I do not think it appropriate we stand on ceremony with the Mr de Capistrano and Miss Millett now we are working together, yes?’

In spite of his perfect English he sounded very foreign. Georgie just had to take that swallow before she could say, ‘If that’s what you want, Mr de Capistrano.’

‘It is,’ he affirmed softly. ‘And the name is Matt.’

The grey eyes were so dark as to be almost black, Georgie thought inconsequentially, and surrounded by such thick black lashes it seemed a shame to waste them on a man. And he seemed even bigger than she remembered. ‘Then please call me Georgie,’ she managed politely.

He inclined his head briefly. ‘And the second thing is that I find myself in need of your assistance today, Georgie,’ he continued smoothly. ‘My secretary, Pepita, has unfortunately had a slight accident this morning and twisted her ankle. Perhaps you would take her place on site and take notes for me?’

Oh, no. No, no, no. She’d never survive a day in his company without making a fool of herself or something. She couldn’t, she really couldn’t do this! If nothing else this confirmed she was doing absolutely the right thing in trying to find a new secretary to take her place for Robert.

Georgie called on every bit of composure she could muster and said steadily, ‘Perhaps you had better ask Robert about that. It would mean closing the office here, of course, which is not ideal. His men are finishing work on a shop we’ve been renovating and are expected to call in some time this afternoon, and there’s the phone to answer and so on.’

‘You have an answering machine?’ Matt enquired pleasantly.

‘Yes, but—’

‘And your presence will only be required during the discussions with the architect and planner. After that you may return here and perhaps type up the notes for me,’ he continued silkily.

Oh, hell! It would be today his precious secretary decided to twist her ankle, Georgie thought helplessly. She doubted if Matt de Capistrano would be around much in the normal run of things; a wealthy tycoon like him had his fingers in a hundred and one pies at any one time, and within a few weeks she would hopefully be out of here anyway. This was just the sort of situation she’d been trying to avoid when she’d decided to find a replacement secretary for Robert. ‘Well, like I said, you’d best discuss this with Robert,’ she said faintly.

‘And if Robert agrees? I can tell him you have no objection, yes?’ he persisted.

No, no and triple no. ‘Of course, Mr—Matt,’ Georgie said calmly.

‘Thank you, Georgie.’

His accent gave her name emphasis on the last ‘e’ and lifted it into something quite different from the mundane, and she was just coping with what that did to her nerves when the hard gaze narrowed as he said conversationally, ‘You do not like me, Georgie.’

It was a statement, not a question, but even if it had been otherwise Georgie would have been unable to answer him immediately such was the state of her surprise.

‘This is not a problem,’ he continued smoothly as she stared at him wide-eyed. His gaze rested briefly on the dark gold of her hair, which hung to her shoulders in a silky bob, before he added, ‘Unless you make it one, of course.’

‘I… That is—’ She was spluttering, she realised suddenly, and with the knowledge came a flood of angry adrenaline that strengthened her voice as her mind became clearer. If he thought she was some pathetic little doormat who would let him walk all over her just because he was bailing them out, he’d got another think coming! She was no one’s whipping boy. ‘I have no intention of making it one,’ she answered smartly.

‘This is good.’

Georgie’s soft mouth tightened further as she caught what she was sure was the hint of laughter in the dark voice, although his face was betraying no amusement whatsoever, and she struggled to keep her tone even and cool as she said, ‘In fact, I don’t expect to be working for Robert much longer, actually. It’s far better that he has someone else working for him here so that I can divide my time between looking after the children and temping work. So I doubt our paths will cross after that.’

To her absolute horror he sat down on a corner of the desk, his body warmth reaching into her air space as he said quietly, ‘Ah, yes, the children. How old are they? Are they coping?’

That same expensive and utterly delicious smell she’d caught wafting off the hard tanned body before was doing wicked things to her hormones, but Georgie was pleased to note nothing of her inward turmoil showed in her voice as she answered evenly, ‘The twins are seven, coming up for eight, and they are coping pretty well on the whole. They have lots of friends and their teacher at school at the moment is actually Sandra’s—their mother’s—best friend, so she is being an absolute brick.’

‘And your brother?’ he asked quietly, his head tilting as he moved a fraction closer which made her heartbeat quicken. ‘How is he doing?’

Georgie cleared her throat. There were probably a million and one men who could sit on her desk all day if they so wished without her turning a hair and without one stray thought coming into her mind. Matt de Capistrano was not one of them.

‘Robert is naturally devastated,’ she said even more quietly than he had spoken. ‘Sandra was his world. They’d known each other since they were children and after they married they even worked together, so their lives were intrinsically linked.’

‘I see.’ He nodded slowly, and Georgie wondered if he was aware of just how sexy he looked when he narrowed his eyes like that. ‘Such devotion is unusual, one might even say exceptional in this day and age of supermarket marriage.’

‘Supermarket marriage?’ she asked bewilderedly.

‘One samples one brand for a while before purchasing another and then another,’ he drawled in cynical explanation. ‘The lawyers get fatter than anyone, of course.’

‘Not all marriages are like that,’ Georgie objected steadily. ‘Some people fall in love and it lasts a lifetime.’

The grey eyes fastened even more piercingly on her face and now the metallic glint was mocking. ‘Don’t tell me you are a romantic,’ he said derisively.

She had been, once. ‘No, I am not a romantic.’ Her voice was cool now, and dismissive. ‘But I know what Sandra and Robert had was real, that’s all.’

She couldn’t read the expression on his face now, but as he opened his mouth to speak Robert chose that moment to open the door of his office, his face breaking into a warm smile as he said, ‘I thought I heard voices out here. Come on in, Matt. There’s just a couple of points I’d like to discuss before we leave.’

Whew! As the door closed behind the two men Georgie slumped in her chair for a moment, one hand smoothing a wisp of silky hair from her flushed face. Something gave her the impression this was going to be one of those days!

She had been banking on using the time the office was quiet with Robert on site to organize the arrangements for the twins’ birthday party. She and Robert had suddenly realised the night before that the children’s birthday was only a couple of weeks away and neither of them had given it a thought. Sandra had always made a big deal of their birthday and Georgie wanted to keep everything as normal as she could in the circumstances, so—Robert being unable to face the thought of the house being invaded by family and friends and loads of screaming infants—she had thought of booking a hall somewhere and hiring a bouncy castle and a magician and the full works.

The buzzer on her desk interrupted further musing. ‘Georgie?’ Robert’s voice sounded strained. ‘Could you organise coffee, make it three cups, would you, and bring in your notebook? I want you to sit in on this.’

What now? Georgie thought as she quickly fetched out the best mugs and a packet of the delicious chocolate caramel biscuits her brother loved. He had lost a great deal of weight in the last months and she had been trying to feed him up since she’d come home.

Once the coffee was ready she straightened her pencil-slim skirt and demure, buttoned-up-to-the-collar blouse and steeled herself for the moment she faced those piercing grey eyes again. Since her first day of working for Robert she had always dressed well, bearing in mind that she was the first impression people received when they walked through the door, but today she had taken extra care and it was only in this moment she acknowledged the fact. And it irritated her. Irritated and annoyed her. She didn’t want to care what Matt de Capistrano thought of her. He was just a brief fleeting shadow in her life, totally unimportant. He was.

The brief and totally unimportant shadow was sitting with one knee over the other and muscled arms stretched along the back of the big comfy visitor’s seat in Robert’s office when she entered, and immediately her body’s reaction to the overt male pose forced her to recognise her own awareness of him. Georgie was even more ruffled when her innate honesty emphasised that his flagrant masculinity was all the more overwhelming for its casual unconsciousness, and after serving the men their coffee and offering them the plate of biscuits she sat down herself, folding her hands neatly in her lap after placing her own coffee within easy reach. She was not going to fidget or gabble or react in any way to Matt de Capistrano, not if it killed her.

‘So…’ Robert’s voice was still strained. ‘To recap, you feel Mains and Jenson will have to go?’ he said to Matt, referring to the two elderly bricklayers who had been with Robert since he first started the firm fourteen years ago.

‘What?’ Georgie forgot all about the non-reaction as she reared up in her seat. ‘George and Walter?’ She had known the two men even before she had come under Robert’s wing and they had always treated her like a favourite granddaughter, as had their wives. The first summer she had come to live with Robert and Sandra, when she’d been bitterly grieving for her parents, Walter and his wife had taken her away to France for two weeks to try and take her mind off her parents’ untimely death and they had been utterly wonderful to her. ‘You can’t! You can’t get rid of them.’

‘Excuse me?’ The steel-grey eyes had narrowed into slits of light and he was frowning.

‘They’re like family,’ Georgie said passionately.

‘Family’s fine,’ Matt said coolly. ‘Inefficient employees are something else. Walter Jenson is well past retiring age and George Mains turned sixty-five a year ago.’

‘They are excellent bricklayers!’ Her green eyes were flashing sparks now.

‘They are too slow,’ he said dismissively, ‘and this is not a charitable concern for geriatrics. Your brother must have lost thousands over the last few years by carrying men like Mains and Jenson. I’ve no doubt of their experience or the quality of their work, but Jenson was off sick more than he was at work over the last twelve months—severe arthritis, isn’t it?’ he asked in a brief aside to Robert, who nodded unhappily. ‘And Mains’s unfortunate stroke last year has slowed him up to the point where I believe he actually represents something of a danger to himself and others, especially when working on scaffolding. If you drop something from any sort of height you could kill or maim anyone beneath.’

‘I don’t believe this!’ She glared at him angrily. ‘They are craftsmen, the pair of them.’

‘They are old craftsmen and it’s time to let some young blood take over,’ Matt said ruthlessly, ‘however much it hurts.’

‘And of course it really hurts you, doesn’t it?’ Georgie bit out furiously, ignoring Robert’s frantic hand-signals as she jerked to her feet. ‘Two dear ol—’ She caught herself as the grey gaze sharpened. ‘Two dear men who have been the rocks on which this business was built just thrown on to the scrap heap. What reward is that for all their faithfulness to Robert and this family? But faithfulness means nothing to men like you, does it? You’ve made your millions, you’re sitting pretty, but you’re still greedy for more and if more means men like Walter and George get sacrificed along the way then so be it.’

‘Have you quite finished?’ He was still sitting in the relaxed manner of earlier but the grey gaze was lethal and pointed straight at Georgie’s flushed face. ‘Then sit down, Miss Millett.’

‘I don’t think—’

‘Sit down!’

The bark made her jump and in spite of herself Georgie felt her legs obey him.

‘Firstly, your brother has made it clear just what he owes these two employees and they will be retired with a very generous package,’ Matt ground out coldly. ‘I think, as does Robert if he speaks the truth, that this will not come as a surprise to them; neither will it be wholly displeasing. Secondly, you talk of sacrifice when you are prepared to jeopardise the rest of your brother’s employees’ livelihoods for the sake of two elderly men who should have retired years ago?

‘It is human nature for the rest of the men to tailor their speed to the slowest worker when there is a set wage at the end of each week. Your brother’s workers have been underachieving for years and a week ago they were in danger of reaping their reward, every one of them. If Robert had gone bankrupt everyone would have been a loser. There is no place for weakness in industry; you should know that.’

‘And kindness?’ She continued to glare at him even though a tiny part of her brain was pressing her to recognise there was more than an element of truth in what he had said. ‘What about kindness and gratitude? How do you think they’ll feel at being told they’re too old?’

‘They know the dates on their birth certificates as well as anyone,’ he said icily, ‘so I doubt it will come as the surprise you seem to foresee.’

He folded his arms over his chest, settling more comfortably in his seat as he studied her stiff body and tense face through narrowed eyes.

Georgie didn’t respond immediately, more because she was biting back further hot words as the full portent of what she had yelled at him registered than because she was intimidated by his coldness. And then she said, her voice shaking slightly, ‘I think what you are demanding Robert do is awful.’

‘Then don’t think.’ He sat forward in his seat, draining his mug with one swallow and turning to Robert as he said, ‘I’d suggest you take this opportunity to change the men over to piece work. With a set goal each week and good bonuses for extra achievement you’ll soon sort out the wheat from the chaff, and you’ve limped on long enough.’

Georgie looked at her brother, willing him to stand up to this tyrant, but Robert merely nodded thoughtfully. ‘I’d been thinking along the same lines myself,’ he agreed quietly.

‘Good, that’s settled, then,’ Matt said imperturbably. ‘Now, if you’d like to get Georgie to note those few points that need checking on site we’ll be on our way. Have you got any other shoes than those?’ he added, looking at her wafer-thin high heels which she had never worn to the office before but which went perfectly with the charcoal skirt she was wearing. They also showed her legs—which Georgie considered her best feature, hating her small bust and too-slender hips—off to their best advantage, but she’d tried to excuse that thought all morning.

Georgie was still mentally reeling from the confrontation of the last few minutes, and a full ten seconds went by before she could say, her voice suitably cutting, ‘I wasn’t aware I was expected to go on site this morning, if you remember, so, no, I haven’t any other shoes with me.’

‘There’s your wellies in the back of my car,’ Robert put in helpfully. ‘You remember we put all our boots in there when we took the kids down to the river for that walk at the weekend?’

Her brother probably had no idea why she glared at him the way she did, Georgie reflected, as she said, ‘Thank you, Robert,’ in a very flat voice. She was going to look just great, wasn’t she? Expensive silk jade-green blouse, elegant skirt and great hefty black wellington boots. Wonderful. And that…that swine sitting there so complacently with his hateful grey eyes looking her up and down was to blame for this, and he was enjoying every minute of her discomfiture. She didn’t have to look at him to know that; it was radiating out from the lean male figure in waves.

As it happened, by the time Georgie jumped out of Robert’s old car at the site of the proposed new estate she wasn’t thinking about her appearance.

Newbottle Meadow, as the site had always been called by all the children thereabouts, was old farmland and still surrounded by grazing cattle in the far distance. When Georgie had first come to live with her brother and his wife the area had been virtually country, but the swiftly encroaching urban advance had swallowed hundreds of acres and now Newbottle Meadow was on the edge of the town. But as yet it was still unspoilt and beautiful.

Georgie stood gazing at the rolling meadowland filled with pink-topped grasses and buttercups and butterflies and she wanted to cry. According to Robert, Matt de Capistrano had had the foresight to buy the land a decade ago when it had still officially been farmland. After several appeals he had managed to persuade the powers-that-be to grant his application for housing—as he had known would happen eventually—thereby guaranteeing a thousandfold profit as relatively inexpensive agricultural land became prime development ground. And then with the yuppie-style estate he was proposing to build…

Philistine! Georgie gulped in the mild May sunshine which turned the buttercups to luminescent gold and the grasses to pink feathers, and forced back the tears pricking the backs of her eyes. Badgers lived here, along with rabbits and foxes and butterflies galore. She and her friends had spent many happy hours marching out of the town to the meadow where they had camped for days on end and had a whale of a time. And now it was all going to be ripped up—mutilated—for filthy lucre. But it would be the saving of Robert’s firm and ultimately her brother himself. The blow of losing his business as well as his wife would have been horrific.

Georgie bit hard on her lip as she turned to see Matt de Capistrano’s red Lamborghini—obviously the Mercedes and the chauffeur were having a day off!—glide to a silky-smooth stop a few yards away. She had to think of Robert and the children in all of this, she told herself fiercely. Her ideals, the unspoilt meadow and all the wildlife, weren’t as important as David and Annie and Robert.

‘You could turn milk sour with that face.’

‘What?’ She was so startled by the softly drawled insult as Matt reached her side that she literally gaped at him.

‘Forget Mains and Jenson; the decision has been made,’ Matt said quietly, his eyes roaming to Robert, who had joined the other men waiting for them in the middle of the acres of meadowland.

‘I wasn’t thinking about George and Walter,’ she returned without thinking.

‘No?’ He eyed her disbelievingly.

‘No.”

“Then what?’ he asked softly, turning to look into her heart-shaped face. ‘Why the ferocious glare and wishing me six foot under?’

‘I wasn’t—’ She stopped abruptly in the middle of the denial. Maybe she had been at that. But he would never understand in a million years, besides which she would be cutting off her nose—or Robert’s nose—to spite her face if she did or said anything to stop Robert securing this contract. Matt de Capistrano would simply use another builder and the estate would become reality anyway. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she finished weakly.

‘Georgie.’ Before she could object he had turned her round, his hand lifting her chin as he looked down into the green of her eyes. ‘Tell me. I’m a big boy. I can take it.’

It was the mockery that did it. He was laughing at her again and Georgie stiffened, her eyes slanting green fire as she fairly spat, ‘You’re going to spoil this beautiful land, desecrate it, and you just don’t care, do you? You’ve got no soul.’

For a moment he just stared at her in amazement, and she observed—with a shred of satisfaction in all the pain and embarrassment—that she had managed to shock him. ‘What?’ he growled quietly.

‘I used to play here as a child, camp out with my friends and have fun,’ she said tightly. ‘And this land is still one of the few places hereabouts which is truly wild and beautiful. People come here to breathe, don’t you see? And you are going to destroy it, along with all the wildlife and the beauty—’

‘People have been allowed to come here because I didn’t stop them,’ he said impatiently. ‘I could have fenced it off but I didn’t.’

‘Because it was too much trouble,’ she shot back quickly.

‘For crying out loud!’ He stared at her with very real incredulity. ‘Is there no end to my crimes where you are concerned? Don’t you want Robert to build this estate?’

‘Of course I do.’ She stared at him angrily. ‘And I don’t. Of course I don’t! How could I when I look at all this and think that in a few months it will be covered with bulldozers and dirt and pretty little houses for people who think the latest designer label and a Mercedes are all that matters in life? But I don’t want Robert to lose his chance of making good; I love him and he’s worked so hard and been through so much. So of course I want him to have the contract.’

He shut his eyes for a moment in a way that said far more than any words could have done, and she resented him furiously for the unspoken criticism and the guilt it engendered. She was being ridiculous, illogical and totally unreasonable, but she couldn’t help it. She just couldn’t help it. This meadowland had healed something deep inside her in the terrible aftermath of her parents’ death. The peace, the tranquillity, the overriding continuing of life here had meant so much. And now it was all going to be swept away.

It had welcomed her after the Glen episode in her life too, reaching out to her with comforting fingers as she had walked the childhood paths and let her fingers brush through grasses and wild flowers that had had an endless consistency about them in a world that had suddenly been turned upside down.

‘I’m sorry.’ Suddenly all the anger had seeped away and she felt she had shrunk down to a child again. ‘This isn’t your fault, not altogether.’

He said something in Spanish that she was sure was uncomplimentary, then said in English, ‘Thank you, Georgie. That makes me feel a whole lot better,’ in tones of deep and biting sarcasm.

‘You won’t take the contract from Robert because you are angry with me?’ she asked anxiously.

His mouth tightened still more and now the hand under her chin became a vice as he looked down into the emerald orbs staring up at him. ‘I think I like it better when you are aware you are insulting me,’ he said very softly.

Under the thin silk shirt she could see a dark shadow and guessed his chest was covered with body hair. He would probably be hairy all over. Somehow it went with the intoxicating male perfume of him, the overall alienness of Matt de Capistrano that was threatening and exciting at the same time. And she didn’t want to be threatened or excited. She just wanted… What? She didn’t know what she wanted any more.

‘Georgie?’

She heard Robert calling through the buzzing in her ears as the warm hand under her chin held her for a second more, his gaze stroking over her bewildered face. And then he let her go, stepping away from her as he called in an unforgivably controlled voice, ‘We are just coming, Robert. Georgie has been reminiscing about her childhood up here. It must have been fun.’

Philistine!

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