He froze. She must be dreaming, he thought. But then she laid her hand across his cheek, tenderly stroking it. ‘You’re such a good man really…and sometimes…sometimes so hard to resist.’

‘Do you know what you are saying?’ he demanded huskily.

‘Yes, I do. I’m wide awake, Rodrigo.’

‘This is a dangerous game you’re playing, Jenny Wren.’

‘Don’t you want to kiss me?’ she whispered, her hand moving gracefully from his cheek into his hair.

His blood heating violently, Rodrigo gripped her shoulder. Self-control was suddenly frighteningly thin. ‘I want much more than just a sweet, drowsy little kiss, my angel. Unless you are prepared for that then we will stop this right here, right now.’

In answer, Jenny gazed up at him with her bewitching light eyes full of longing, and then with a fleeting bold smile she slanted her petal-soft lips against his.

Surrender to Her Spanish Husband

BY

Maggie Cox

www.millsandboon.co.uk

The day MAGGIE COX saw the film version of Wuthering Heights, with a beautiful Merle Oberon and a very handsome Laurence Olivier, was the day she became hooked on romance. From that day onwards she spent a lot of time dreaming up her own romances, secretly hoping that one day she might become published and get paid for doing what she loved most! Now that her dream is being realised, she wakes up every morning and counts her blessings. She is married to a gorgeous man, and is the mother of two wonderful sons. Her two other great passions in life—besides her family and reading/writing—are music and films.

MILLS & BOON

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With grateful thanks to my lovely editor Sally Williamson.

Her gentle guidance and support help make my part of the deal a joy!

Chapter One

AN EAR-SPLITTING bolt of lightning shrieked through the air, lighting up the interior of the house’s cosy hallway and outlining in threatening shadow the figure that loomed up behind the door’s decorative stained glass panels. Her foot on the first tread of the stairs, on her way up to the hot scented bath that promised to be the perfect antidote to the day’s accumulated stresses and strains, Jenny came to a sudden shocked standstill.

It was almost ten in the evening. There had been no phone call to tell her of the imminent arrival of a guest, and there were no other occupants in the entire place but her. Bearing in mind Raven Cottage’s remote, some might say wild location—miles from anywhere—she had to quickly rid herself of the nightmarish scenario that her mind unhelpfully and frighteningly presented her with. But deepening dread paralysed her for long seconds before she could shake it off.

Installed as temporary caretaker of the charming thatched-roof guesthouse for nearly three full months now, courtesy of her friend Lily, who had gone to visit her parents in Australia, in all that time Jenny had not once chafed against her isolated surroundings at all. If anything, its lonely proximity to the Atlantic Ocean had given her a chance to properly take stock of all that had happened. Bit by bit she’d been rebuilding her esteem.

Divorce was never easy, but hers had been reluctant and sorrowful. She still ached for what might have been if her ex-husband hadn’t rent her heart in two by deciding he could no longer continue with the marriage. Even though that had been years ago, from time to time Jenny still reeled from it. Standing out at the water’s edge sometimes, she’d stare at the colossal waves sweeping into the shore and they seemed to symbolise the emotional battering she had taken. And If the divorce hadn’t been traumatic enough fate had then delivered another blow—one that that had been particularly cruel.

But maybe it was because it was such a stormy ‘end of the world’ kind of night that her imagination seemed intent on putting her centre stage into a scene straight out of a horror movie…the kind that made her wonder if the people who watched them were altogether sane.

The shadowy figure outside lifted the brass knocker, banging it loudly. The discordant sound was like nerve-jangling rifle-shot, intent on drilling a hole through her skull. Biting her lip, Jenny breathed in deeply.

‘Just a minute. I’m coming!’ Having raised her voice above the din of a growling roll of thunder she fleetingly wished she’d pretended she wasn’t home. Her caller would hopefully have just gone away and she could have enjoyed her longed-for bath in peace. But, knowing Lily needed the business, she plastered on a smile then opened the door.

‘Dios mio! Could there be a more remote inhospitable place in the world?’

The darkly clothed male figure who, even after only the short sprint from his car, looked as if he’d been swimming in a roiling wild river, immediately vented his frustration.

Eyes the colour of silken jet pierced Jenny like dangerously sharpened dagger-points. Her determinedly upbeat smile vanished. It had been on the tip of her tongue to burst out Well, if it’s so inhospitable, and you’d rather be somewhere else, why have you bothered to knock on my door? But the words died in her throat—because her visitor was shockingly familiar.

Eyes widening, she pressed her hand to her chest. ‘Rodrigo. What are you doing here?’ Her body shivered hard from the blast of freezing air that the opened door brought with it.

Her ex-husband stepped inside, causing Jenny to back up nervously. Shaking his mane of sleekly dark hair, then staring at her with a gaze that deluged her with a sea of haunting memories, he wiped the back of his hand across his damply glistening face. ‘I might ask you the same question.’

‘I’m looking after the place for Lily while she’s away in Australia.’ Clearly Jenny’s presence was as much a surprise to him as his was to her. The ridiculous hope that he’d sought her out because he wanted to reconcile was cruelly and devastatingly snatched away. Despite her sorrow, she forced herself to carry on speaking. ‘Now it’s your turn. What brings you to the wilds of Cornwall? I wouldn’t have thought it could hold much appeal—especially in the winter. The Mediterranean is much more your style.’

He sighed, as though it pained him to even consider some suitably witty repartee. ‘I’m in the area because I have a meeting tomorrow. Have you a room? For pity’s sake don’t turn me out into that—that violent monsoon again!’

‘I’d take pity on anyone who was in danger of being swept away by such wild weather…even you, Rodrigo. It’s pretty grim out there tonight. Anyway…you’re in luck. We’re not fully booked. We’re actually very quiet at the moment.’

Best not tell him he’s the only guest just the same…Unconsciously grimacing, Jenny skirted round her formidably built ex-husband to hastily shut the door against the raging storm.

‘Thanks.’ Reaching out a hand, he squeezed her shoulder as his well-cut lips formed a lopsided smile. ‘It is gratifying to know that you don’t hate me enough to leave me to my fate.’

Parrying the nervous heat that flooded her, she backed up again.

‘I expect you’d like to go straight to your room? You must be dying to get out of those soaking wet clothes.’

Another inconvenient wave of heat suffused Jenny at the remark she’d made. But she’d been referring to the imminent shedding of Rodrigo’s clothes, so it hardly came as a surprise.

‘I am. But first I will have to make a dash back to the car to collect my luggage.’

No sooner was this said than done, and once again Jenny was treated to a perfectly icy blast of arctic cold as she waited for Rodrigo to return with his suitcase, and an expensive calf leather shoulder bag that she knew contained a laptop.

‘You’d better give me your coat,’ she said, making herself wait patiently as he removed his damp trenchcoat and then held it out to her. She desperately wanted to present an appearance of composure, even though inside her feelings easily mirrored the violent chaos of the storm.

A fleeting rueful smile touched Rodrigo’s lips. ‘I don’t want to ruin Lily’s polished wooden floor-boards,’ he remarked.

Hanging the garment on a peg at the back of the door, she saw droplets of icy water from the hem drip rhythmically onto the raffia doormat. ‘I’ll hang it in the utility room in a little while,’ she told him.

The spicy cologne that clung to the material of his coat made a direct assay into her already besieged senses, causing another disturbing skirmish low in her belly. She frowned, hugging her arms over the lilac wool sweater that she’d teamed with well-worn faded blue jeans. ‘So…where’s this meeting you’ve got tomorrow?’

‘Penzance. I was booked into a hotel there, but the roads were treacherous in this storm, and my sat nav stopped working. As I was driving I remembered that Lily had a guesthouse somewhere close by. I didn’t even have to look for it—that was the crazy thing. Believe it or not somehow the place just loomed up before me…It’s a total surprise to find you here.’

He hesitated, as if he was going to add something, and Jenny deliberately smothered the persistent ridiculous hope that doggedly had hold of her heart with a pincer grip.

‘So you only need a room for the one night?’

‘That’s right. And what you said earlier was right too…the Mediterranean is more to my taste.’

‘Then God forbid that you should suffer more than you have to!’ she answered waspishly, turning away. Her insides went crazy when Rodrigo caught hold of her hand.

‘Do you want to make me suffer, Jenny?’ His dark eyes glittered.

Pulling her hand free from his icy cold palm, she dismissively tossed her head. ‘I can assure you that I’ve got far more important things to do with my time. The room’s this way.’

She led him upstairs to the luxurious accommodation at the front of the house, knowing that it was the best room in the building. No matter what had transpired between them as a couple, she knew he had faultless good taste—and she didn’t want him to find flaws in her friend’s much loved business. In the morning he would be treated to something pretty spectacular. When the landscape wasn’t shrouded in mist and dark, or sheeted with blinding incessant rain, he’d find a view that couldn’t fail to stir the senses and feed the soul. Again—despite her personal feelings—Jenny hoped Rodrigo would appreciate it.

Artists, writers, honeymooning couples and folk recovering from illness, divorce or bereavement—they had all stayed in that room, Lily had told her. With its unparalleled vista reflecting the Atlantic Ocean’s dramatically beautiful unpredictability, it was a firm favourite with everyone. And, going by the comments in the visitors’ book, they all swore that the bewitching and haunting wild scenery had definitely worked its magic, making them devotees for life by the time it came for them to leave.

Now, surveying the exotically handsome looks of the man who had once been her husband as he deposited his stylish suitcase and bag on top of the lovingly created silk patchwork quilt on the bed, Jenny saw him glance round the room with little evidence of pleasure or satisfaction on his face. Didn’t he like it? There was a brooding, disenchanted air about him that reminded her that he had seen and done it all, more or less, and since there wasn’t much that could impress him it was probably a waste of time even trying.

On her friend’s behalf, Jenny was affronted. The beautifully presented room, with its plush velvet curtains and matching swags, tasteful designer wallpaper that had cost an arm and a leg, immaculate antique Davenport and sumptuous king-sized bed, complete with bespoke iron bedstead, had taken a large chunk of her friend’s savings to perfect. It was a luxurious and relaxing atmosphere, yet at the same time Lily had managed to retain the old-fashioned English charm that the tourists expected and loved. And, being in the business of interior design, Jenny had been happy to advise her.

After the devastating death of Lily’s sister and her husband in a car crash, Lily had found herself sole owner of Raven Cottage, and she had become absolutely determined to rise above the terrible tragedy she’d suffered and make the guesthouse a resounding success in their memory.

Like Jenny, Lily was no stranger to the bitter and jolting twists of fate that could cut a person off at the knees. That was why the bond between them that had begun all those years ago at school had deepened even more over the last couple of years.

Just before they had entered the room Jenny had flicked a switch to turn on two small antique table lamps either side of the bed, bathing the room in a softly inviting amber glow. As the rain whipped at the old-fashioned windows, and the crashing thunder overhead literally shook the rafters, she thought it would be hard to find a cosier place to shelter from such primitive violent weather. But again she found herself wondering if her jaded ex-husband even had the capacity to appreciate it.

‘So…how come you’ve got a meeting in Cornwall?’ Summoning a determinedly neutral tone, Jenny focused her apprehensive gaze on Rodrigo Martinez—billionaire owner of a chain of spa/hotels that were some of the most exclusive in the world. His carved handsome face, with its deep-set black eyes and spiked ebony lashes still damp from the rain, gave her his full attention. In return, her hungry glance moved helplessly over his arrestingly fit body. A body that suggested a disturbing physicality for which the outer garb of black sweater and jeans was only a thin shield. Rodrigo’s simmering sexuality had fascinated and thrilled Jenny right from the beginning.

‘I’m opening one of my hotels in Penzance,’ he replied, his accent underlined by the husky gravel of his voice. ‘Research tells me it’s a popular area.’

‘So naturally you want to capitalise on it?’

Unoffended, he shrugged. ‘I’m a businessman in the hotel trade…what did you expect?’

Jenny’s mouth dried with hurt. ‘Nothing. I expect nothing of you, Rodrigo. Except maybe for you to act like you’ve always acted. I learned that lesson a long time ago, remember?’

‘And you still bear a grudge towards me for it, by the sound of things.’ Sighing, he drove his fingers irritably though his rain-damp hair. ‘I need to get out of these wet things and take a hot shower. Unless you’re feeling reckless and want to join me, I suggest it’s time you vacated my room.’

‘Go to hell!’ Jenny reacted instantly, her heart suffused with indignant anger as well as painful regret.

‘You think I haven’t been there before, querida?’ Shaking his head, his voice low, Rodrigo ruefully dropped his hands to his hips.

‘When was that? When you failed to secure some million-dollar deal to make you even richer? That must have been a real low point!’

‘What a flattering not to mention damning opinion you have of me, Jenny. You think all I’m interested in in life is making money?’

‘I don’t think that at all.’ Her hand curved round the doorknob, Jenny met his disturbing gaze with unflinching steadiness. ‘I know it.’ She would have slammed out through the door there and then if her innate good nature hadn’t got the better of her. ‘I’ll make you some coffee and get you a bite to eat. I expect you’re hungry after your long drive. It’ll be in the kitchen when you’re ready.’

‘Jenny?’

‘Yes?’

‘Nothing…it will keep. We can talk later.’

Bereft of a handy reply, and hardly trusting herself to speak without becoming emotional, Jenny left the room. In the corridor her footsteps slowed. It had been over two years since she’d seen Rodrigo. She’d foolishly kept hoping he’d ring or get in touch, but he never had. In her mind she’d imagined him saying he’d made a mistake—he’d only asked her for a divorce because he was stressed—he’d been working too hard and hadn’t been thinking straight. No such event had occurred. When she’d returned to the UK from Barcelona, where they had lived together, Jenny’s friends had advised her not to waste any more precious time thinking about him. If he couldn’t see the gift he had so easily let go then he just wasn’t worth it. Why didn’t she just spend the money he’d insisted she take as a divorce settlement, have a good time, and forget him?

As if she was going to wake up one morning and forget how to breathe. Day and night Rodrigo’s memory haunted her. Her thoughts seemed incapable of dwelling on much else. But she wasn’t happy that he still had the power to affect her so profoundly. She wanted to show him that she’d moved on…made a new and satisfying life without him. But after the pain and mayhem her brother Tim had caused when Jenny had returned to the family home ‘new and satisfying’ would have been a lie.

Her teeth clamping painfully down on her lip, Jenny headed back downstairs to the kitchen. A violent shudder rolled through her as a flash of lightning eerily illuminated the house’s interior. The hall lights flickered wildly. To add to the sticky, uncomfortable tension in the air that shrouded her like a fine cloying mist—despite the arctic temperature outside—she nearly jumped out of her skin when a slightly over-weight, well-fed tabby weaved her way awkwardly round her legs and almost sent her sprawling.

‘Cozette, you naughty girl!’ Jenny scolded, scooping the purring feline up from the floor and then holding the generous bundle of warm soft fur close into her chest.

She didn’t mind admitting that Lily’s pet cat had become a very welcome companion during her sojourn in the wilds of Cornwall.

‘How many times have I told you not to do that? Never mind, are you scared of the storm? Is that what’s bothering you? Poor little kitty…don’t worry. I’ll take you into the kitchen and find you a nice tasty bite to eat to help take your mind off this terrible racket!’

Upstairs in his room, in the act of retrieving his laptop from its leather holdall and wondering if this Cornish wilderness had even heard of the internet, Rodrigo paused. The voice that drifted up to him from downstairs riveted him. It always had. Now he stood perfectly still, listening. The lady had a voice as alluringly velvet as a warm midsummer’s night, and it wrapped itself round his senses like a soft Andalucian breeze, full of the scents of jasmine, orange and honeysuckle and other exotic flowers that could render one hypnotised by their scent alone.

Hearing Jenny’s voice again after being denied the sound for over two years…The effect it had always had on him ricocheted hotly through Rodrigo’s brain. Not to mention other sensitive parts of his body. As he listened to her croon now, to what he quickly deduced must be Lily’s pet cat, the napped velvet tones and cultured British accent were enough to raise goosebumps up and down his forearms and unquestioningly to arouse him. He blew out a breath. Steady, Rodrigo…he ruefully warned himself. She was still pretty mad at him, and had every right to be.

They’d been married for just over a year when he’d declared that they must part. Even now he could hardly believe he’d said the words—never mind seen them through. He should definitely rein in the almost instantaneous lust that had all but exploded through him at the sight of her tonight. Those luminous cornflower-blue eyes in a stunning oval face framed by a gilded curtain of shoulder-length blonde hair had always hit him where it hurt. He had never set out to wound her so badly. But—that aside—he had travelled to this spectacularly haunting part of the country for the purposes of business, not pleasure. And of all the startling scenarios he might have envisaged on this trip, having his beautiful ex-wife open the door to him on arrival at her friend’s guesthouse was not one of them—though he had to admit his spur-of-the-moment plan had been influenced by the hope of hearing news of her.

His heavy sigh was laden with equal parts of frustration and tension. He kicked off his Italian-made shoes and tore off his socks, allowing his long tanned feet to sink gratefully into the luxurious carpet, before stripping off his clothes and heading for the shower…

‘Do you have access to the internet here?’

‘What? Oh, yes…but the signal’s a bit dodgy. I mean, it comes and goes…especially in a storm like this.’

‘I feared as much.’

‘We’ll probably get connected again tomorrow, when things have calmed down a bit. You may as well resign yourself to a night of not working. Think you can cope?’

‘Very funny. Is this my coffee?’

‘Yes. Sit down and help yourself. I presume you still take sugar? At any rate I’ve added two.’

‘It’s still the one pleasure I cannot give up,’ Rodrigo joked. Seeing the glimpse of hurt that flitted across Jenny’s face, he could have bitten out his tongue. The truth was that she had been the hardest pleasure of all to give up. Going by the ache in his ribs and low down in his belly, she still was.

As he arranged himself at the table, a generous mug of coffee steaming invitingly before him along-side a neat round plate piled high with sandwiches fashioned out of thick-cut wholemeal bread, Rodrigo tried to smother the swift stab of longing that filled him as he stared at Jenny.

Pulling his gaze reluctantly away, he made a leisurely inventory of the homely, country-style kitchen that surrounded him. With its mismatched stand-alone oak and pine furniture, old-fashioned cooking range and long wooden shelves lined with quaint but fashionable china it was a million miles from the state-of-the-art bespoke modern interiors that his exclusive holiday resorts prided themselves on featuring. But its homespun charm was seductive and inviting all the same. In fact it reminded Rodrigo very much of the simple Andalucian farmhouse high in the Serrania de Ronda hills he had grown up in. He experienced a fierce pang of longing as the not very often explored memory unexpectedly gripped him.

‘This looks very good,’ he muttered, taking a swig of the burning coffee and a hungry bite of a ham and English mustard sandwich.

‘If you’d arrived earlier you could have had dinner…I cooked a cottage pie, but I’ve put what was left of it in the freezer now. Will this snack be enough for you? I’ve some fruitcake you can have afterwards with your coffee, if you like.’

As she talked, Jenny brought a decorative round tin to the table and opened it. Inside nestled a clearly homemade fruitcake that smelled mouthwateringly of cloves, cinnamon and nutmeg.

Rodrigo nodded approvingly. ‘I might have to take you up on that offer. You know how fond I am of homemade cake.’ His well-cut lips curved in a smile. ‘Is it one of yours?’

‘I made it, yes.’

‘Still the little home-maker, I see, Jenny Wren.’ The nickname he had settled on from the very first time they were together came out before he could halt it. The flawless alabaster skin bloomed hotly with what he guessed must be embarrassed heat. Checking his apology, he lazily watched to see what she would do next.

Outside, a flurry of stormy wind crashed against the windows, bringing with it a sleeting rush of hammering rain. Jenny’s clearly affected gaze locked with his.

‘Don’t call me that,’ she said brokenly, the volume of her voice descending almost to a whisper.

Beneath his black cashmere sweater, Rodrigo sensed tension grip his spine. ‘Why not?’

‘You forfeited the right when you told me our marriage was over…that’s why.’

‘Then I won’t use it again.’

‘Thank you. Besides…I told you it’s the name my father always called me, and he really loved me. Eat your food, Rodrigo, you must be hungry.’

Miserable with regret, he knew that any comment he made would likely pour petrol on an already simmering fire, and automatically crammed another bite of bread and ham into his mouth. It might as well have been sawdust for all the enjoyment he received from it.

Jenny moved away across the unadorned warm brick floor to one of the many immaculately clean pine worktops that filled the room. Presenting her back to him, she started slicing up more bread from the generous-sized loaf on the breadboard, her hurried, quick movements telling him that mentioning her father had definitely made her even more upset than she was already.

‘I know how much you loved him too. He raised you and your brother single-handedly after your mother died,’ he remarked. ‘I would have liked to have met him. I too lost my parents when I was young…remember? My father first, and then my mother.’ Carrying his mug of coffee with him, Rodrigo went to join her at the counter.

Clearly startled, Jenny glanced up, her hands stilling on the knife and bread. ‘Yes, I remember.’

‘Their deaths spurred me on to make my own way in life…so although it was tough for a while without them I am grateful.’

‘Would you—do you need that coffee topped up? The water in the kettle should still be hot,’ Jenny said, anxious to move the conversation away from the dangerously personal direction it had taken.

‘No, thanks. It is fine just as it is.’

‘Are you sure? It’s no trouble.’

Warmth spread through Rodrigo’s entire being as he stared down into the lovely face before him. How he resisted the almost overwhelming urge to pull Jenny into his arms, he didn’t know. Except that—as she’d told him earlier about using the pet name he had for her—he had forfeited the right. But the warmth that had invaded him remained, making him he realise it had been a long time since a woman had taken care of him so thoughtfully. Not since Jenny had left, in fact.

For the past two years he had been travelling and working abroad almost continually, and it shocked him to learn that a part of him missed that treatment. From the very first time he’d met her Rodrigo had received the impression that it was Jenny’s nature to be helpful, kind and thoughtful of others. All this was coupled with an extraordinary beauty—and she had been a blessing he had hardly been able to believe had come his way.

Chapter Two

‘WHY don’t you make yourself a drink and come and talk to me while I eat?’ Rodrigo suggested, his steady dark gaze making Jenny feel as though he was putting her under a powerful microscope.

For a little while she was utterly hypnotised by his compelling examination. He was staring at her as if he honestly craved her company, and she couldn’t help but feel all at sea about that. What were his motives? she wondered. It was natural to be suspicious after two years without a word. And if she was honest she was also afraid of hearing the other reasons why he’d let her go, besides the fact that he couldn’t properly commit to their union because of his dedication to work. More than once at the back of her mind she’d entertained the possibility that he’d been having an affair. If that was the case then she definitely didn’t want to hear about it. Rodrigo had already broken her heart, and she had no desire to have it shattered again.

‘I don’t have time to talk to you now,’ Jenny answered nervously, tucking some corn-gold strands behind her ear. ‘Besides…you’ve had ample time to contact me if you wanted to talk, and the mere fact that you haven’t clearly illustrates what I’ve always known to be true: your work is much more important than any relationship. What’s to be gained by digging over old ground? I picked up the pieces after our farcical marriage and made a new life, and you just returned to the one you liked best as a bachelor.’

A muscle jerked visibly in Rodrigo’s high-angled cheekbone. ‘What a pretty picture you paint of my conduct.’

‘I’m only telling the truth. Our marriage was a mistake, was it not?’ Her breath was so tight Jenny felt dizzy. ‘I’m as much at fault as you. I had no business accepting your proposal when we’d only known each other for three short months, but I quickly learned that your work was priority number one and always would be.’

Returning to the table, Rodrigo dropped down into the chair he had vacated. Linking his hands, he lifted his dark eyes to observe Jenny. ‘Why have you never spent any of the settlement I made on you?’ he asked.

‘Because I didn’t want your damn money in the first place!’ Her heart pounding fit to burst, she willed the threatening tears that were backed up behind her lids to freeze over. ‘I thought I was marrying the man I loved…not entering into a lucrative business deal.’

‘You have every right to the money.’ Shaking his head wearily, Rodrigo surprised Jenny with a lost look that made her insides turn over. ‘I let you down—made you a promise I couldn’t keep. It was only fair that I compensated you for that.’

‘I didn’t want compensation. After the divorce I just wanted to rebuild my life and start over. I wanted to forget about you, Rodrigo.’

‘And did you?’

The question hung in the air between them like a detonated grenade. Not trusting him enough to voice the truth, Jenny moved away from the pine counter and assumed a businesslike air. ‘There are a few things I have to do before I turn in for the night, and I have to get on.’

‘Conscientious as ever, I see. Lily has a good friend in you, Jenny.’

‘She’s been a good friend to me too…a real support the past two years especially.’

‘She must despise me for what I did to you.’ Rodrigo’s mouth twisted wryly.

‘On the contrary. The truth is you rarely even come into our conversation. Now, I’ve got to empty the rubbish and check over the house before I lock up for the night.’

‘How long is Lily away?’

‘She’s been gone nearly three months now. She’s due back in a fortnight.’

‘I see. And what about the interior design consultancy that you intended to resurrect when you returned to the UK? Are you not involved with that any more?’

‘I’m still running it, though business has been a bit slow throughout the summer months. That’s why I was able to come here and help Lily out.’

‘And how are things with your brother Tim? Are you still paying the mortgage on the family home you shared with him? I remember he had a particular talent for avoiding work and paying his own share.’

Rodrigo’s question, along with his sardonic remark, made Jenny feel queasy. Of course Rodrigo had no idea what had happened when she’d returned…how sour things had turned between her and Tim—culminating in a most shocking event that she would never forget…

‘Tim met somebody and moved to Scotland after I bought out his share of the house.’

‘So you’re still living there?’

Feeling her face throb with uncomfortable heat beneath Rodrigo’s razor-sharp scrutiny, Jenny glanced away. ‘I’d better go and see to those bins.’

She was still wary of further probing questions as she lifted out the recycling bag from its plastic container beneath the double butler sink that Lily had excitedly sourced from a local reclamation yard, and prayed Rodrigo would cease quizzing her.

Heading for the door opening into the utility room, she threw over her shoulder, ‘Why don’t you just relax and enjoy your refreshments in peace?’

‘Jenny?’

Turning, she found to her astonishment that he was right behind her, his half-drunk mug of coffee left on the table. Her heart foolishly hammered at his unexpected nearness. ‘What is it?’

‘Let me do that for you…it sounds like a war zone out there and I don’t like the idea of you coming under fire on your own.’

Even as he uttered the words a thunderous crash resounded above them, its threatening echoes rumbling like some disgruntled giant disturbed from his sleep. Once again all the lights buzzed precariously on and off, as though the whole place might be plunged into darkness at any second.

Clutching the recycling bag tightly between her fingers, Jenny shook her head. ‘I’m not afraid of the storm. I’ll only be gone a couple of minutes.’

Not hanging around to see if he would try to persuade her, she rushed out through the door into the utility room. Once there, she opened the back door to the part of the garden where a paved pathway led towards a sturdy iron gate, beyond which was the road. Or where she knew there should be a road. Switching on the night light, all she could see through the grey shroud of misty, heavily falling rain was an uprooted tree lying drunkenly across the path. The ferocious wind was tossing everything around as though it were the flimsy furniture in a child’s dolls’ house. Lily’s beloved greenhouse was ominously shaking and shuddering. It was definitely under threat of losing its moorings as the rain viciously pelted the thin glass panes, Jenny saw. Dangerously, just a few feet away a slim-stemmed birch was being all but battered to kingdom come. If it came crashing down on top of Lily’s beloved greenhouse the several almost ripened tomato plants that she’d been tending like a broody mother hen would certainly be demolished—as would every other plant and vegetable in there.

The idea of being the one who was responsible for losing them galvanised Jenny into action. Determinedly she headed for the shed at the bottom of the garden, the wind’s eerie elemental power making her stumble more than once as she negotiated her way round the fallen tree that lay across the path. A while ago, whilst searching for a particular garden tool, she’d spotted what looked like a fairly robust rolled up tarpaulin inside the shed, which could now be put to good use.

The large tarpaulin clutched against her sodden chest, along with some tent pegs she’d found, Jenny shook her drenched hair from her eyes and then steeled herself to walk back to the other side of the garden where the greenhouse stood. Grimacing as another bolt of silver lightning lit up the sky, she uncurled the tarp, shaking it out as best as she could.

It didn’t take long for her to realise she was fighting a losing battle. Every time she managed to get one corner straightened out the wind all but ripped it out of her now freezing hands and she had to fight to uncurl it again. The rain was like a grey blindfold over her eyes as she worked, making her curse out loud because she hadn’t thought about the implications of such a storm earlier, when she’d first seen the darkening clouds appear in the sky.

‘What are you trying to do?’

A voice to the side of her lifted to make itself heard above the storm. Already drenched to the skin from his dash from the back door to reach Jenny’s side, Rodrigo was staring at her as though she was quite mad.

‘The greenhouse!’ she shouted, pointing. ‘I need to secure it so it won’t get flattened by the storm. I was going to throw the tarp over it and then fasten it to the ground to hold it.’

Comprehending, Rodrigo unceremoniously relieved her of the wildly blowing tarpaulin and then shoved one corner back into her hands. ‘Move back and we will shake it out together,’ he instructed. ‘Do you have anything to secure it?’

‘Yes.’ She quickly stooped to retrieve the long tent pegs she’d left by her feet. ‘These.’ She handed them over.

‘We need a hammer to bang them into the ground.’ Momentarily he shifted his gaze down to her feet, as if expecting to see the necessary tool lying there.

‘Oh, God.’ Biting her lip, Jenny stared back at Rodrigo with an apologetic shrug. ‘I forgot to bring the mallet with me. It’s still in the shed.’

‘I’ll get it. Stay here.’

‘It’s at the other end of the garden. Can you see it?’

‘Yes, I see it.’ Before he left, Rodrigo furnished her with a wry look. ‘And do your best not to get blown away by the wind while I am gone…I am looking forward to my full English breakfast in the morning, and that’s not going to happen without a cook!’

No sooner had he left than he was back again, a large wooden mallet clutched tightly in his hand, as if the storm and the fallen tree had been but mere annoying trifles that had not even vaguely threatened his mission. Taking charge with reassuring confidence, he yelled instructions to Jenny, helping them both negotiate the best way of working in the increasingly untamed weather.

By the time they had the tarp over the greenhouse roof and the sides rolled down securely over the glass walls—Rodrigo having deftly banged in the tent pegs through the loops to fasten it to the ground—Jenny felt as if she’d been packed in ice and left to freeze. Thank God her ex had been around to help her. That was all she could think as she took one last glance through the drowning rain at the secured tarp covering Lily’s treasured greenhouse. She’d never have managed it on her own, she realised.

Gratefully dashing into the house again, she knew she must look half-drowned, with her sodden clothing and dripping hair. Next to the efficient DIY expert, who still managed to look nothing less than gorgeous even though he was also wet through, Jenny felt like something the cat had dragged in. It wasn’t a picture she wanted to project to anyone…least of all the man that had broken her heart. But her hands were so chilled that she could barely even make a fist, and she had no choice but to leave the locking of the door behind them to Rodrigo too.

Dark hair was plastered to his well-shaped head, and Jenny watched an icy rivulet of water streak down his face over high-sculpted cheekbones and a clean-cut jaw that didn’t have so much as a smidgeon of spare flesh detracting from its perfect symmetry. On its way, the pearl of moisture flirted briefly with a corner of his mouth, making her dangerously aware of how full and sensual his upper lip was—just like one of those Italian sculptures that art-lovers gasped at because they were so beautiful.

‘Tomorrow morning I’m going to cook you the best breakfast you’ve ever had.’ She took a nervous swallow. ‘I owe you big-time for what you just did. Lily has worked so hard to grow her own vegetables, and—’

The lips that had so riveted her attention were suddenly laid over hers as gently as a butterfly wing. Shocked rigid, Jenny was nonetheless compos mentis enough to register the erotic warmth of the breath that came with it, as well as the burning heat hovering beguilingly beneath the rough velvet skin that had been rendered arctic cold from his rescue mission outside.

As soon as Rodrigo lifted his mouth away from hers her body throbbed with insistent hunger for a second helping of that incredibly arousing fleeting contact. The idea of having a properly passionate kiss from her one-time husband again made her feel dizzy with want…quite primitively crazy with it.

Fearing her gaze must easily reflect her torrid feelings, Jenny stepped away, her hands fiddling with the drenched ends of her shoulder-length hair, praying he wouldn’t guess how violently his brief kiss had affected her. ‘What was that for?’ she breathed.

He shrugged, as though amused. ‘Regard it as a thank-you from the absent Lily. No doubt she would be quite moved to learn that you care so much about her greenhouse that you were willing to venture outside in a violent storm to protect it.’ Rodrigo smiled. ‘Now…I think we both need to rid ourselves of these wet clothes before we succumb to pneumonia, don’t you?’

The suggestion sounded like something X-rated articulated in that sexy Spanish voice. So much so that Jenny felt as if a fire had been lit beneath her blood. But, with his hands on his hips, Rodrigo’s next words quickly brought her disturbing fantasies to an abrupt if regretful end.

‘We’d better not stand here talking all night. We need to get back to our rooms, change into dry clothing and then return downstairs for a hot drink to warm us up…sí?’

‘Good idea,’ Jenny muttered, wrenching her gaze determinedly away from his. Ascending the staircase, she hurried as though being chased by some dogged pursuer up to no good. But in her heart of hearts she knew it was her own tumultuous feelings that she was really hoping to distance herself from…

In the shower, as he stood beneath the needle-sharp scalding spray, Rodrigo stared through the curtain of water, filled with disbelief at what had just happened between him and his pretty ex-wife.

Recalling the incident with more intent, he remembered that her sweet-lipped cupid’s bow pink mouth had suddenly become like the most sensuous narcotic. A longing to still the tantalising little quiver he had glimpsed, to taste the heat as well as the rain-cold damp he knew he would find there, had spontaneously driven him to press his mouth against hers. What Rodrigo had not been expecting was that kissing Jenny’s soft little mouth would feel so instantly essential to him the moment he made contact.

Reliving the experience made his insides dance wildly. How could he have forgotten that she could make him feel like that? His mind moved on to a far more disturbing thought. How many lovers had she taken to her bed since they had parted? She was young and beautiful, and these dark cold nights stuck out here on her own would undoubtedly get lonely. He had no right to feel so jealous and angrily affronted by the idea. Jenny was free to do as she liked. They were divorced. But if she had not taken a lover was it because she still thought of him?

The idea sent a burning arrow of explosive heat straight to Rodrigo’s loins and he murmured an expletive in Spanish. How long since he had had a woman? He traced the outline of a circle in the collected steam on the shower stall’s glass, added a downturned mouth and scowled. Clearly long enough for it to seriously start to bother him.

It wasn’t that there was ever a lack of opportunity. Females of all ages had taken a profound interest in him ever since he’d started to hit puberty at around thirteen. But he had done nothing about more recent opportunities because he had allowed work to gobble up his free time like an insatiable termite instead. Before he’d realised it the days and weeks in his diary had suddenly revealed that a whole year had gone by—a year during which he could practically equal a Franciscan monk for lack of sexual activity. Not to mention the complete dearth of a social life or even anything remotely related to relaxation.

He was beginning to feel a little like an automated machine—going here, going there, and hardly even noticing his surroundings. It scarcely mattered whether it was some sensual eastern paradise or one of the glamorous foreign playgrounds of the rich and famous—private playgrounds to which gradually, through his single-minded dedication to his goal, Rodrigo had at last gained membership. But the successful business he’d been so focused on achieving from such a young age had gradually turned into a monster, intent on gorging every ounce of energy and life force he possessed in return for the rewards he’d once deemed so essential to his self-esteem and his life.

Frighteningly, he had experienced periods of late when his body had threatened to barely get him through the day at all. More frightening still was the fact that very little in his life—either some achievement or something material—managed to give him pleasure any more. It appeared as though he was numb to the sensation. Even this new project, installing one of his exclusive resorts in this scenic, wild and—as research informed him—desirable corner of south-west England was quickly starting to lose the excitement and appeal it had initially held. But the last thing his shareholders wanted to hear was that he had lost that lucrative, moneymaking killer instinct that had helped so spectacularly to line their pockets too.

Sighing, Rodrigo stepped out of the shower onto the aquamarine tiled floor. Reaching for a voluminous white towel that had been left warming on the radiator, he dried himself vigorously, dressed in clean jeans and a sweatshirt, combed his fingers through his still damp hair and then turned to view his scowling reflection in the steamy mirror.

He didn’t like what he saw. The confirmation of his thoughts about the lack of relaxation in any form was written clear in the dullness of his eyes, in the new lines he spied round his mouth and gouged into his forehead. Even through the steam they mercilessly confronted him.

A picture came into his mind of his angelic-looking ex-wife. Would a hot night of unconstrained lust in her bed, with soft sighs, mutually hungry needs passionately met, cure him of the dullness in his eyes? Would it help him regain some of the strength and vitality that lately he sensed he had lost?

Grimacing as another wave of erotic heat seized his body, Rodrigo didn’t doubt it would. But after the way he had treated her would Jenny even consider it?

As he turned to leave the room he silently acknowledged that it wasn’t just the promise of a warming nighttime drink he was hoping for…

She was standing by the stove, watching over a simmering pan of milk. Somehow knowing he was there, she turned towards him and, surprisingly, gifted him with a smile. Her lovely face was scrubbed clean as a child’s and her huge china-blue eyes set up such a violent longing in Rodrigo that he barely knew how to handle it. It wasn’t just the natural healthy longing of a sexually aroused male at the sight of an attractive woman either. It was the totally contradictory yearning for an impossible dream that he usually dismissed as viciously as swatting an annoying fly—a dream that he had had within his grasp but had incredibly let go. But sometimes—like now—it broke through his insatiable need for success and acceptance by the world and almost throttled those desires by the throat. Yet its tantalising promise could never be for him. He was a pragmatist, a realist…a man a million miles away from ever putting his faith in such an impossibly unattainable idea. No doubt his lovely ex-wife would back him up on that.

Wearing a full-length cream dressing gown, its lapels patterned with tiny sprigged red roses, little Jenny Wren radiated the kind of innocence and purity that made Rodrigo briefly mourn for the hopefulness and joy of his early youth. Before he had discovered that in his ardent pursuit of success the world would extract every ounce of that hopefulness and joy and pay him back with constant growing tension and a vague unease that all was not right.

Rubbing his hand over his chest in a bid to ease the sudden clutch of discomfort that had collected there, he appreciatively registered that Jenny’s golden hair had been left to dry naturally, in almost too tempting to touch blonde ringlets. Finding himself in a trance, he paused in the doorway just to gaze at her…enjoying the stirring sight she made as if paying homage to an exquisite work of art in a gallery.

‘I’m making hot chocolate. Is that okay?’

‘It is more than just okay. I could not think of a more perfect ending to a night like this.’

Liar, his silent inner voice mocked as he easily thought of a far more exciting and alluring alternative. But, as if to illustrate his comment, a violent blast of furious thunder overhead made the whole house feel as though the very walls were about to disintegrate into a pile of rubble.

‘Sit down. I’ll bring it over to you when it’s ready.’

‘I get the feeling that there’s no one around tonight but us. Am I right in thinking I’m the only guest staying here?’

‘You are. Like I said…’ she whipped up the milk in the pan with a tiny whisk as if she was no stranger to the task ‘…we’re pretty quiet at the moment. The summer holidays are long over, and it probably won’t get busy again until nearly Christmas.’

‘And will you still be here then, helping Lily out?’

Jenny’s slender shoulders visibly stilled. ‘No. I won’t. I told you…she’s due back in a couple of weeks and I’ll be returning to London.’

‘To the house you grew up in as a child.’

‘Yes.’

‘Yet you seem more at home here than anywhere I’ve seen you before.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘Because this rural environment suits you…In fact, it wouldn’t require a great stretch of the imagination to see you as a country girl, Jenny. Yes, I can visualise you sitting in your cosy little stone cottage each evening as the sun goes down, the tantalising smell of the day’s fruitful baking lingering in the air.’

‘And in this tantalising little scenario am I on my own?’ The catch in her voice had Rodrigo frowning deeply.

‘I don’t know.’ He shrugged. ‘You tell me.’ Even though his voice was calm, it felt as if an icy boulder had taken up residence inside his belly.

‘You know I’ve always wanted a family.’

‘Yes.’ He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. ‘I do know that.’

‘But you never wanted children, did you?’

‘No. I didn’t.’

‘Then it was just as well you decided our marriage wouldn’t work, wasn’t it?’

Lifting the pan off the stove, Jenny poured the steaming milk into two waiting ceramic mugs, then gave the contents a brief stir. Bringing their drinks to the table, where Rodrigo sat silently and broodingly waiting, she lowered herself into the chair opposite him. Straight away he scented the soap she’d used to wash herself with. It smelled like newly laundered linen. Once again it lit a fire in his blood that made him feel more alive and intensely aware than he had in ages.

Sighing softly, she focused her shimmering corn-flower-blue eyes on his. ‘One day you might meet someone you really care for, Rodrigo, and change your mind about having children.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘How can you be so sure?’

‘Because I know exactly what I want and what I don’t want. There’s no confusion about that.’ His mouth set uncompromisingly.

‘It must be marvellous to be so certain of things…to be so sure that you’re right.’

Jenny turned her face away. When she glanced back Rodrigo couldn’t pretend he didn’t see the avalanche of hurt in her eyes. It all but sliced him in two, knowing he was the cause of it.

‘It doesn’t feel so marvellous when you put it like that,’ he replied drolly.

‘Then let’s change the subject. Let’s not talk about us—what we want or don’t want—let’s stick to safer topics. Your shower…was the water hot enough?’

Shrugging, Rodrigo warmed his still chilled hands round his mug of hot chocolate. ‘It was fine.’

‘Good.’

‘You worry too much about others, Jenny.’

‘I suppose I do. At least I worry that Lily’s guests have everything that they need and are comfortable. It’s a big responsibility, taking care of someone else’s house and business, and I want to do a good job for her while I’m here.’

‘Trust me…you do such a good job of taking care of your guests that you would put a top hotel to shame.’

‘I suppose you’d know about that, wouldn’t you?’

‘I suppose I would.’ Regarding her from beneath the sweeping black lashes that any female would envy, Rodrigo edged a corner of his mouth towards a smile. ‘Anyway, I’ve always believed in acknowledging effort and good work where I see it.’

‘Your staff must love you for that. As well as being paid well, everyone wants to feel valued.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘I agree. Sometimes employers can forget that.’

In his mind Rodrigo made a quick inventory of some of the people who worked for him…Were they happy? Did they consider him a good employer? Certainly his management team seemed to think so. After all, in fifteen years he had had very few complaints. From that he had to deduce that all must be well. For their loyalty and hard work he rewarded his staff with regular bonuses and luxury breaks at different foreign resorts from the ones they worked in, as well as seeing to it that they all had good pensions and private healthcare. He also knew that despite his strict adherence to high standards, he was well liked.

‘So, you still enjoy your work?’ Jenny enquired, dark blonde brows lifting a little.

‘Yes, I do,’ Rodrigo replied.

Now it was his turn to guard and protect his feelings. The stormy night, this warm cosy house and its unexpected pretty and familiar hostess might have lulled him into relaxing far more than he had in ages, but he was not about to confess to Jenny that lately he had fallen a little bit out of love with his chosen career.

‘I suppose that was a bit of a stupid question.’

‘It wasn’t.’

‘I mean…your work is your life, right? Of course you must still enjoy it.’

Taking a brief sip of her drink, Jenny licked the chocolate-coloured froth from her lips with the tip of her elegant pink tongue. Already feeling the disturbingly sensual effects of her alluring sweet company, Rodrigo felt the taut muscles in his belly constrict even more.

‘My dad was only a plumber, but he really enjoyed his work too.’ Her gaze roamed from Rodrigo’s features down to his Ralph Lauren sweatshirt. ‘Of course he didn’t dress nearly as stylishly or expensively as you. Truth is he never made a lot of money, even though he worked hard. If he thought a customer would struggle to pay his bill he’d only charge them half the price. He wasn’t a natural businessman, I’m afraid. But he was the very best father you could wish for.’

‘You clearly admired and loved him very much.’

‘I did. After all, what could be more important than being a good parent, and supporting, loving and adoring your children so that they don’t ever doubt they mean everything to you? Being good at business is nothing in comparison to that.’

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