‘So you’re Diego Acosta?’ she exclaimed, unable to conceal her surprise. Trying to ignore the waves of awareness washing over her, she took a fresh look at the man towering over her. He still looked more like a disreputable pirate than an international polo player. Bracing herself, she extended her hand in greeting—which he ignored and turned away.

Diego Acosta wasn’t sophisticated and he wasn’t charming. He certainly wasn’t her usual wedding contact, most of whom looked to Maxie for guidance. The thought of this man looking to anyone for direction was a joke. Diego Acosta was a glowering tyrant who expected to be obeyed.

But she had dealt with difficult characters in the past, Maxie reminded herself. It was inevitable that she met a wide mix of personalities during the course of her work. Diplomacy was an essential part of her skill set and she was used to difficult men, having grown up under the iron fist of her father. She had learned how to handle him before illness had so cruelly diminished him, and now she must learn how to manage Diego Acosta.

About the Author

SUSAN STEPHENS was a professional singer before meeting her husband on the tiny Mediterranean island of Malta. In true Modern™ Romance style they met on Monday, became engaged on Friday, and were married three months after that. Almost thirty years and three children later, they are still in love. (Susan does not advise her children to return home one day with a similar story, as she may not take the news with the same fortitude as her own mother!)

Susan had written several non-fiction books when fate took a hand. At a charity costume ball there was an after-dinner auction. One of the lots, ‘Spend a Day with an Author’, had been donated by Mills & Boon® author Penny Jordan. Susan’s husband bought this lot, and Penny was to become not just a great friend but a wonderful mentor, who encouraged Susan to write romance.

Susan loves her family, her pets, her friends and her writing. She enjoys entertaining, travel, and going to the theatre. She reads, cooks, and plays the piano to relax, and can occasionally be found throwing herself off mountains on a pair of skis or galloping through the countryside. Visit Susan’s website: www.susanstephens.net—she loves to hear from her readers all around the world!

Recent titles by the same author:

THE SHAMELESS LIFE OF RUIZ ACOSTA

THE UNTAMED ARGENTINIAN

RUTHLESS BOSS, DREAM BABY

(Men Without Mercy)

Did you know these are also available as eBooks?

Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

The
Argentinian’s
Solace
Susan Stephens

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For Carly.

Intuition tells me to be excited about my new editor.

CHAPTER ONE

SHE had to close her mind to the man on the shore. Getting the old boat safely into its berth was more important. But he was like an elemental force, his gaze fixed and unswerving, with the most magnificent physique Maxie had ever seen. Tall, ripped and tanned, with wild black hair and dangerous eyes. A gold earring glinted in what light there was. Low-slung jeans over a flat, muscular belly were enough to throw anyone off course …

So think of the snarling face that would stop a rhino in its track and your concentration will come flooding back.

She had sailed the boat this far and she wasn’t turning back now.

Bringing the trawler through mountainous waves single-handed had been nothing short of a miracle. They had barely made it out of the harbour when the skipper had declared himself out of action after consuming the greater part of a bottle of Scotland’s finest. Maxie would be the first to admit her qualifications for sailing a boat this size were slim. She had once helped to crew a sixty-eight footer, but this old rust-bucket was proving rather more cantankerous. And she was more than a bit rusty, Maxie accepted as the deck lurched beneath her feet.

Glancing at the man on the dock, she guessed he was waiting for her to fail. His massive forearms were crossed over his formidable chest, and his black eyes blazed with mockery and scorn.

‘Welcome to Isla del Fuego,’ Maxie muttered beneath her breath. But, however unfriendly the welcoming committee, she was going to berth this bucketing monster if it killed her!

Which it probably would, Maxie registered with panic as the ancient fishing craft crashed into the dock.

With relief she saw the elderly skipper had made it out of his bunk in time to take the wheel. Boiling black storm clouds suggested the weather wasn’t about to change any time soon, which for a wedding planner on a scouting trip for an excited bride was somewhere south of perfect. And if the man onshore worked for the Acostas, who owned the island, he would need some serious retraining in the art of welcoming guests before the wedding, Maxie concluded, trying not to look at his glowering face.

She could always tell Holly the island was unsuitable …

The idea flitted across her mind, but it wasn’t an option. She’d seen Scottish castles in worse settings transformed into fairytale palaces on a warm spring day, and damp French châteaux revealed in all their ancient glory when the sun shone. Plus, she trusted Holly. The bride was a smart girl, and June was a famously fabulous month in which to get married. Bottom line? If Holly wanted to get married on Isla del Fuego then it was up to Maxie to make it happen and the man on shore would just have to suck it up.

Dios! What had the storm washed in? Some pin-thin, drooping violet with—

With a very accurate and surprisingly powerful throw, Diego conceded as he caught the rope the girl tossed him. But she had no business sailing Fernando’s fishing boat—let alone slamming into the dock, thanks to her poor reading of the weather. She was lucky to be alive after sailing to the island in a storm.

‘Are you ready?’ she called, preparing to toss a second rope.

With his stiff leg he could only move at half her speed. The second she turned her back he limped as fast as he could to get into position before she could see him lurching like a drunk.

‘Here it comes,’ she warned him, in a voice that was both light and musical, yet which somehow crested the howl of the wind.

Catching the rope, he secured it. It appeared fate had a sense of humour, sending an attractive girl to the island when he could least handle the action. Resentment swept over him as he watched her darting nimbly about the deck. When his brother’s fiancée had called to warn him the wedding planner was on her way he had accepted his self-imposed exile was over, but to have some lithe young girl call time was insulting. He had come down to the dock to meet the principal of the events company—someone older and sophisticated, with a keen sense of style—not some kid in jeans and a hooded top with long dark hair hanging in sodden straggles down her back. Was his brother’s wedding of so little importance they’d sent some underling?

‘Well caught!’ she yelled, having fired another rope at him.

Well caught? There had been a time when nothing physical had been beyond him, but then his horse had rolled on him during a polo match, shattering the bones in his leg. It had been pinned in half a dozen places. He had been back on a horse and training rigorously, but it was more than a year since the accident and he had yet to regain the subtleties of sensation required for the top class game, leaving his future in polo uncertain.

‘No harm done,’ the girl yelled as she leaned over the rail to check the hull for damage.

‘It could have been a costly mistake,’ he roared back. ‘You’ve been lucky this time.’

‘Lucky?’ She laughed.

He felt a surge of interest, but in his current state that was soon snuffed out. She could take a look around the island and report back to Holly, but the moment the wind dropped she was history.

No one had said planning a wedding on a remote island would be easy, Maxie reasoned, dashing spray out of her eyes. And time was of the essence, the bride had insisted. No wonder, Maxie had thought when she’d seen a photo of the groom. She had always known organising a high-profile event on a tiny island would be fraught with difficulties, but she hadn’t bargained on being met by a man who made her heart beat nineteen to the dozen. She had always loved a challenge, but as a scholarship girl at an upscale school, with a home life that could best be described as chaotic, she’d made a choice early in life to remain safe on the outside looking in while other people enjoyed the arrangements she made for them.

Safe? Pulling back from the rail, she took a few steadying breaths before preparing to disembark. Nothing was safe here—especially the hard-eyed man on shore.

‘Watch your step,’ he barked as she started her perilous crossing of the narrow plank.

‘I will,’ she called back tensely, wondering why he didn’t come to help her if he was so concerned.

Oh, stop fussing. She could manage. She was fine. This commission was every wedding planner’s dream, and she had no intention of starting out by falling in the sea. A big society wedding between Ruiz Acosta, a fabulously wealthy Argentinian polo player, and Holly Valiant, a celebrity agony aunt who had made her name by writing a column based on living with Ruiz, would have readers hanging on Holly’s every word. Having tamed the playboy, Holly was about to marry him—and the world was waiting with bated breath to see the wedding. A wedding Maxie was going to arrange. It was a commission that would take her business to the next level, and as her income supported everything she cared about this trip was going to be a success.

The man onshore had turned his attention to the skipper. Maxie had the basics of Spanish, but she fell short where colloquialisms were concerned. ‘Is he offering to help us?’ she called out.

‘Something like that,’ the elderly skipper admitted sheepishly.

I bet, she thought, hoping Señor Acosta would have more charm. She stared at him again and quickly looked away. There was something in the man’s eyes that said he had the sort of experience no woman with any sense would choose to get close to. And Maxie had plenty of sense. Though she was lousy at relationships, Maxie conceded with a shrug. Her ideal date was a civilised chat in a civilised restaurant with a civilised man—not a walk on the wild side with a barbarian with an earring and tattoos. She couldn’t deny the man’s edgy good looks had stirred something inside her, but he was food for her fantasies and nothing more.

‘Are you from the bridal agency?’ he demanded in a deep, husky voice.

‘That’s right,’ she confirmed, halfway across the sloping plank. ‘Could you give me a hand?’ She had stopped in the middle of the plank, uncomfortably aware of the turbulent water churning greedily beneath her feet. If he’d grab her suitcase she could hold the guide ropes with both hands.

‘Try walking tall,’ he suggested. ‘Look where you’re going instead of looking down …’

Thanks very much. She’d take her chances with the fishes. But when he turned his irritation on the skipper she’d had enough. ‘If you have anything to say, you can say it to me,’ she insisted in Spanish. ‘I chartered the boat, and I made the decision to sail to the island.’

His gaze darkened. ‘You speak our language?’

‘I would have recognised your tone of voice if you’d been speaking in Ket … a language spoken only in Central Siberia,’ she muttered to herself—but he heard her.

‘If you’re so clever you should have more sense than to persuade an old man to bring you out to the island in a storm.’

Addressing his next words to Fernando, he spoke in a very different tone. ‘You look chilled to the bone, Fernando. You will stay in the guesthouse until the wind drops. I’ll have Maria come over with hot food and clean linen for you.’

‘Si, Señor Acosta, y muchas gracias.’

Señor Acosta? Maxie groaned inwardly. ‘So you’re Diego Acosta?’

‘Correct,’ he confirmed.

The ironic twist to the firm mouth might make her senses roar but this wasn’t the best of starts. Acosta might look more like a dangerous pirate than an international polo player, but his co-operation was crucial as he part-owned the island. ‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Señor Acosta,’ she said as she stepped with relief onto the shore.

Ignoring the hand she had extended in greeting, he turned away.

Diego Acosta wasn’t sophisticated and he wasn’t charming. He certainly wasn’t her usual type of wedding contact, who looked to Maxie for guidance. The idea of this man looking to anyone for direction was a joke.

‘Give me your bags, Fernando,’ he called out in Spanish, staring out to the boat over her head.

Diplomacy was an essential part of her skill set, Maxie reminded herself. She had dealt with plenty of difficult characters in the past—starting her training on her father, who had been a Class One bully when she was younger, before illness had reduced him to a shell. She had learned how to handle him and she would learn how to manage Diego Acosta—though she would have to be subtle. She couldn’t risk offending him. The Acosta family was so powerful they could destroy her hard-won reputation at a stroke. ‘I’m Maxie Parrish,’ she said, stepping in front of him so he couldn’t ignore her. ‘Holly’s wedding planner?’

The dark gaze blackened. What the hell had she said now?

Parrish? Memories festered inside him, though common sense told him Parrish was not an unusual name.

‘I spoke with Holly before I left the mainland—’ the girl was explaining.

‘Parrish?’ he interrupted, powerless to stem the tide of memories.

‘Yes, Maxie Parrish,’ the girl repeated. ‘From a company called Dream Weddings. Holly said she’d call to warn you I was arriving today.’

‘She did,’ he agreed, ‘but she forgot to tell me your name.’

‘Is there a problem with it?’ she demanded, smiling faintly.

‘Not at all,’ he assured her in the same detached tone. ‘I suppose I was expecting someone older.’

‘I wouldn’t send anyone else to scout a job,’ she assured him in the same courteous tone. ‘I always make the first visit and the last, Señor Acosta, as well as every other visit in between.’

She said this as if it were a gauntlet she was throwing down, but pleasantly. He wasn’t fooled. He could sense the steel beneath the accommodating manner, and his hackles rose even as more basic needs surged in response to this intriguing combination of feminine fragility and rock-solid resolve. Either way, with his brother on a polo tour and his bride-to-be at his side, Diego was stuck with their wedding planner—like it or not.

Diego Acosta was staring at her and frowning as if he thought they might have met before, which was impossible. She never forgot a face—and would never forget a face like his. ‘I can only apologise if this is a bad time for you—’

And then she saw the cane.

She should cut him some slack, Maxie resolved. A man like Diego Acosta, stripped of his full physical powers, would not be having a bad time—he would be having the worst time imaginable. She had researched the family to get a sense of who they were, and knew one of the brothers had been injured in a riding accident, but she hadn’t realised he was still suffering or that he would be her host on the island.

‘I’ll take your suitcase,’ he offered brusquely.

Disaster struck as he lifted it. His cane skidded on a stone and he stumbled. She reached out to save him, but it was the worst thing she could have done. Cursing viciously, he snatched his arm away and made off in the direction of the car park with one leg dragging badly. In the faint hope of building bridges, she chased after him.

‘I hope the weather’s better than this in June,’ she yelled against the wind. Even limping with a cane he had opened up quite a gap. ‘This might not look like a great venue at first sight, but I’m not easily put off.’ She wasn’t even sure if he’d heard her. They were heading down a stony path in the direction of a car park, where the only vehicle was a powerful off-roader. ‘Holly assures me the island is beautiful in June …’

He wheeled around so suddenly she almost cannoned into him. ‘And what do you think, Ms Parrish?’

With Diego Acosta towering over her it was hard to think at all. ‘I haven’t seen enough to make a judgement yet,’ she said honestly, wondering if her heart would slow down long enough for her to breathe. She had never experienced this sort of reaction to a man before, but Diego Acosta exuded a powerful sexual energy, which for someone with below average experience of men was quite something to take in.

‘Do you expect me to show you around?’ he asked, wincing as he eased his leg.

‘How kind of you to offer,’ she said mildly. She could feel the resentment crackling round him, but she wouldn’t want anyone to see her in pain, either—and at least he wasn’t bundling her back on the next boat. ‘I look forward to hearing everything you can tell me about the island.’

‘I can see this is going to be an interesting trip, Ms Parrish.’

Her composure was shattered by a single, burning glance. ‘My thoughts exactly,’ she agreed, wafting the hair out of her face with a suddenly shaking hand. ‘Shall I put my suitcase in the back?’

Her intention had been to save him the risk of stumbling again, but she’d only managed to create more offence.

‘I’ll take it,’ he snapped, his expression darkening as he swung her heavy bag from the ground as if it weighed nothing.

‘That’s very kind of you. And please don’t worry, Señor Acosta. I won’t be hanging around. This isn’t a pleasure trip for me—it’s purely business.’

‘What else would it be?’ Folding his arms, he leaned his tight hips against the side of the vehicle.

Her heart juddered uncontrollably. Diego Acosta might be the most arrogant man on the face of the earth, but her body liked him—far too much. ‘All I need while I’m here is a map and a bike,’ she explained, doubting any woman could remain immune to quite so much man.

‘A bicycle? On these mountains?’ Resting his stubble-blackened chin on one shoulder, Acosta shot an ironic glance at the jagged peaks surrounding them.

‘A motorbike,’ Maxie explained. ‘Your brother, Ruiz, said you have one on the island?’

‘Did he?’ Diego Acosta replied coolly. Dark eyes narrowed in suspicion as he stared at her. ‘I trust you’re not suggesting I lend you my bike?’

Her stomach tightened as he straightened up to his full, imposing height. ‘I ride a bike at home.’ She had the satisfaction of seeing surprise colour his arrogant gaze, but in the interest of good business she decided not to push too hard on this yet. ‘I quite understand if you’d rather not lend your bike to a stranger—’

‘You haven’t seen my bike,’ he said, with all the confidence of a man who hadn’t met too many women like Maxie before. ‘I think you’d be safer taking the Jeep.’

She recoiled at the put-down, but all she said was thank you. Who liked being patronised? But this wasn’t about Maxie’s pride. She was here for the bride, and to earn the money that kept her father safe and well looked after in a nursing home. Glancing inside the vehicle, she hoped Diego Acosta would take the hint. He might be impervious to the elements, but she was freezing cold and wet. She was glad when he swung the door wide, and launched herself into the welcoming warmth of the luxurious interior.

‘Now we wait for Fernando,’ he announced, bringing the gale from hell with him as he entered the vehicle. Tossing his cane in the back, he swung into the driver’s seat using just the formidable power in his arms.

She hoped they wouldn’t have to wait long. Every part of her was prickling with awareness in the confined space. They were seated so close—too close. To distract herself she reached inside her bag to find her business card. ‘You can check me out on this website.’ She held it out to him. ‘There are plenty of reviews from satisfied clients. I’m sure you won’t be disappointed with the services I offer.’

‘I should hope not.’

Something in Diego Acosta’s voice made heat curl low in her belly in a way that was both inconvenient and inappropriate. Silence was her safest bet, Maxie concluded, noticing he barely glanced at her card before stowing it in a pocket on the door, where it would probably stay until it yellowed.

Fernando joined them soon after, much to her relief. She gripped the seat as they drove off, but she needn’t have worried as Diego Acosta drove with the same arrant confidence with which he appeared to do everything else.

‘How long do you plan to stay, Ms Parrish?’

‘That’s hard to say …’ Her senses sharpened when he met her glance. ‘Except I’ll be as time-efficient as I can be.’ She guessed this was to reassure them both. She had a real sense of invading the dark space of a man who had retreated to this remote island after his accident and who wanted to be alone—and she was in no hurry to stay a moment longer than she had to.

‘How do you normally proceed?’ he demanded.

‘I spend a few days researching the bride’s preferred venue, deciding if it’s viable or not, and then I make suggestions, with photographs to illustrate my thinking.’

‘And when the weather’s like this?’ he said abruptly, making a gesture that encompassed the storm ravaged landscape outside the windscreen. ‘How do you tempt the bride then?’

‘The sky seems to be brightening,’ she pointed out, determined not to be put off at such an early stage. ‘The bride is already in love with Isla del Fuego, Señor Acosta, and please believe me when I say I won’t get in your way.’

‘I can’t see how we can avoid each other on such a small island.’

She tried reasoning that he’d been injured and craved solitude, and yet had been thrown into the path of a wedding—the most social of occasions. No wonder he was climbing the walls. But did he have to kick her on the way?

‘You’re very quiet,’ he observed.

Staring at impossibly strong forearms and powerful yet sensitive hands could do that to a girl. She quickly dragged her gaze away.

‘Are you regretting your decision to arrange a wedding here, Señorita Parrish?’

‘On the contrary, my mind is buzzing with ideas.’ He needn’t know the details.

‘Your name?’ he queried thoughtfully as they slowed to take a bend. ‘It seems familiar to me. Are you sure we haven’t met before?’

‘It’s quite a common name.’ She said this to a soundtrack of Fernando snoring. ‘I’m sure we haven’t met before. I would remember. And I doubt we move in the same circles.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ he said, frowning.

‘Just that I have never been to a polo match and I doubt you crash weddings.’

‘I’m surprised you haven’t added polo to your list of things to do,’ he said sharply. ‘You have been hired to arrange the marriage of a high-profile polo player.’

His concerns on behalf of his brother were understandable. ‘I’ve read a lot about the game, and I’ve watched a lot of films regarding the sport, documentaries—you know.’

‘Which is hardly the same thing as attending a match.’

‘That’s something I intend to put right as soon as I can. I’m looking forward to it,’ she added keenly. ‘It looks such a thrilling game!’

‘It is.’

She could have bitten off her tongue when he shifted position to ease his leg.

‘How long have you been in the wedding business, Señorita Parrish?’

‘Please—call me Maxie. Everyone does.’

‘Are you going to answer the question?’ he said, ignoring the olive branch.

‘Both Holly and your brother have my references,’ she said, rattled by this inquisition.

‘It’s a simple question.’ Diego Acosta swung the wheel so abruptly she was thrown into the side of the vehicle as the off-roader lurched onto a minor road. ‘Why should I read your references when you’re sitting next to me and can give me the answers yourself?’ he added, with a certain amount of justification and a whole heap of ire.

Because she had edited her CV so carefully, maybe? ‘I’m happy to answer any question you care to put to me.’ Within reason, Maxie amended silently.

There was a lot of information about herself that she didn’t share—like the fact she had been in business since the onset of her father’s illness and the cost of his nursing care meant she couldn’t earn enough working for anyone else on a fixed salary. She had struck out on her own, determined and desperate, with one goal in mind: her father’s dignity and privacy had to be preserved. And it had been. And would continue to be, whatever provocation Diego Acosta tossed her way.

CHAPTER TWO

‘I’VE been arranging weddings for friends for as long as I can remember.’ Maxie had decided that if she was going to be forced to explain herself she might as well take the lead.

‘And why would they ask you?’ Diego Acosta demanded.

‘I guess because I was always the one who put on events at school. Arranging weddings turned out to be a natural progression of that.’ She only now realised that that was exactly what had happened.

‘How long is it since you left school?’

‘I’m twenty-six.’ And enough was enough. ‘I’ve been a successful wedding planner with my own company for over five years now, Señor Acosta.’

‘My brother led me to believe that his wedding planner would be someone older with a great deal of experience. And excuse me for saying so,’ he added, not sounding in the least bit sorry, ‘but you seem far too young to handle a job of this size and importance.’

‘All weddings are important to me,’ Maxie said, bridling. ‘And though I realise you are unlikely to have heard of me, please don’t judge a book by its cover, Señor Acosta. I may not wear a business suit while I’m traveling, any more than you wear one when you’re down on the dock, but I’m serious about what I do. And excuse me for saying so,’ she added, thinking it better to get things straight from the off, ‘I’m not your brother’s wedding planner. I was hired to do this job by Holly Valiant.’

‘I’m sure you’ll agree with me that Holly has a somewhat rose-tinted view of the island?’

‘As I said earlier, I haven’t had a chance to make any assessment yet. I’m completely impartial at the moment.’

And not about to roll over, Diego realised, fighting off the interest this provoked. If Maxie Parrish had anything to do with it this wedding would happen—and he was on notice. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had decided his agenda.

‘I do wonder,’ she said, distracting him, ‘if the island falls short in so many ways, why you chose to come here to recuperate?’

‘I beg your pardon?’ He couldn’t believe she had voiced those thoughts. No one mentioned his injury in front of him. No one even risked glancing at his leg. His brothers might—his sister Lucia definitely would. But strangers?’

‘Sorry if I’m being nosy,’ she said. ‘I’m just curious as to what drew you here.’

‘Childhood memories,’ he said sarcastically, hoping that would shut her up. Everyone had tiptoed round him since the accident. No woman had ever challenged him. Yet this kid had jumped right in!

‘Whoa—slow down,’ she said, grabbing his arm as he stamped down on the gas.

He glanced at the tiny hand on his arm. She looked too, and quickly withdrew it. ‘I thought you liked speed?’ he mocked her, in a pointed reminder of her claim to ride a motorbike at home.

‘I ride my bike responsibly,’ she said mildly.

She wasn’t scared to take him on.

Seducing the wedding planner had never been part of his plan. It still wasn’t. He must have too much time on his hands even to let thoughts like that occur to him. The type of woman he favoured was older and knew the score. She knew how to dress and what to say. More importantly, she knew when to remain quiet. She did not look like a fresh-faced tomboy, who dressed like a boy and insisted on speaking to him like a man.

‘Are you all right, Fernando?’ She had turned to check on the elderly skipper.

‘My apologies if I woke you, Fernando,’ he said, glancing in the rearview mirror.

The old man was more interested in hearing what Maxie had to say. ‘Soy muy bien … Gracias, Maxie,’ he was saying, in a fonder tone than Diego had heard him use before.

When the girl had settled back in her seat she shot a glance at him. Was she reassuring him that Fernando was okay? Or was she playing it her way and to hell with him? She might look like a kid, but there was a lot going on behind that shrewd grey gaze, and he couldn’t help wondering what other surprises Ms Parrish had in store for him.

‘And when exactly did you learn to skipper a boat?’

‘I helped to crew a yacht once—a friend at school. Her father was mad for sailing.’

He shot her a look that suggested she was mad. He couldn’t believe she had thought it safe to transfer such tenuous experience to the open ocean in a barely seaworthy tub, but it told him something about her. She wasn’t afraid of a challenge. Her cheeks pinked up when she caught his cold, assessing stare. Those pink cheeks told him everything he needed to know. Maxie Parrish might think she had all the answers, but she had none where he was concerned.

A client was always right. A client’s brother-in-law-to-be had rights also—just so long as Diego Acosta didn’t mistake her for a doormat. He had begun questioning her again about how she had grown the business so quickly. His lack of confidence in her was no big deal. It took time to win a client over. And, in his favour, the fact that this wedding was so important to him showed a strong family bond between Diego and his brother Ruiz.

‘I had arranged quite a few weddings already when I was asked to plan one for a friend who works in television. She was so thrilled by the results that when she returned from honeymoon she asked if I could present a wedding feature for Valentine’s Day—the perfect wedding, that sort of thing. Everything took off from there and I haven’t looked back since.’

‘But you haven’t organised a wedding on a small island, where deliveries are uncertain and the electricity supply is erratic at best,’ he pointed out.

‘That’s true. But generators can be hired, and I would have any supplies we need shipped over well in advance. I’m happy to take on the challenge.’

‘I’m sure you are. And you’re nothing if not prepared.’ He shot a glance at her wet clothes.

‘Had I known I would be sailing a boat today, I would have worn something more appropriate.’

‘Why were you in charge of the boat?’ He glanced at Fernando through the rearview mirror.

Maxie checked too, only to find Fernando was snoring again. ‘Fernando was feeling a little unwell and I was glad to help out.’ She left it there. Maybe Diego Acosta was trying to catch her out or embarrass her, but whatever his motive she wasn’t going to land Fernando in trouble. ‘I enjoyed the experience,’ she said, brushing it off as if the terrifying voyage through raging seas had been nothing to her, ‘and I never make the same mistake twice.’

‘I should hope not,’ Diego Acosta replied.

For some reason she was staring at his lips. She quickly looked away. She might be soaking wet and freezing, but her body was distinctly warm. ‘If Holly decides to hold her wedding here and we encounter any problems, rest assured. I will deal with them.’

‘That’s what you’re being paid for, isn’t it?’

Diego Acosta grimaced and eased his leg as he spoke. She’d already worked out his mood was largely affected by pain or lack of it. ‘It is what I’m being paid for,’ she confirmed. And now she was wondering why, with all the money in the world to buy the best treatment available, the injury was still troubling him. And if it hurt so much why didn’t he just take something for the pain, like everyone else?

‘If this job is going to be too much for you, I’d rather you said so now,’ he said, throwing her a lifeline she was supposed to grab eagerly and with gratitude, Maxie suspected.

‘I always make a full evaluation before I come to any decision,’ she explained calmly.

Her work as a wedding planner gave her such an intimate window into people’s lives it wouldn’t be the first time she had been invited in only for a client to draw back and ask themselves if this stranger would be sensitive to their needs, or if their most intimate secrets were about to be raked over and exposed to public scrutiny. Just because Diego Acosta was a testosterone-packed hunk it didn’t mean she would treat him any differently from the rest.

‘I think I’ve already explained that I won’t need to trouble you for most of my time here.’

‘If you stay on the island,’ he said, as if this was by no means certain.

‘Why wouldn’t I?’ she countered, careful to keep her tone bland and friendly. ‘Judging by your earlier remarks, I assume you wouldn’t want Fernando risking his fishing boat a second time in a storm.’

The elderly skipper chose that moment to stop snoring, and lost no time endorsing her words with heartfelt agreement. Maxie guessed Fernando was in no hurry to leave Isla del Fuego until he had received some coddling from Diego Acosta’s staff.

‘If there’s a hotel here,’ she added, ‘I don’t even need to trouble you for a room.’

‘This is a small private island, with a small resident community,’ Diego Acosta pointed out. ‘There are no hotels, as such.’

‘Perhaps bed and breakfast in a private house?’ Maxie suggested hopefully.

‘You will find no fairy godmothers on Isla del Fuego with rooms to spare, Señorita Parrish,’ Acosta informed her.

No wonder. If there had been a fairy godmother her wand would have withered to a twig by now.

‘You will stay with me,’ he said, with zero enthusiasm.

Maxie’s throat dried. Stay with him? Yes, it made sense, but—

When in doubt, smile and say thank you. That was the advice she always gave to anxious brides. ‘Thank you,’ she said politely, and as that seemed to be the end of Diego Acosta’s welcome speech she directed her attention out of the window, to where the stubborn sea mist was lifting away like the curtains in a theatre, drawing back to reveal a scene that would make any audience gasp. Dramatic black peaks soared directly out of the raging sea, while at the side of the road luminous green foliage, made brilliant by the rain, competed for attention with striking banks of magenta blossom. ‘How wonderful,’ she murmured, forgetting the thunderstorm at her side for the moment.

‘I wouldn’t get your hopes up,’ Diego Acosta commented, with a particularly male brand of humour. ‘I live a rough, spare bachelor’s life on the island, with very few home comforts.’

‘I was referring to the view,’ Maxi explained, chalking one up to the wedding planner. ‘It’s absolutely stunning.’ And absolutely perfect for the wedding of a passionate couple like Holly and Ruiz, she thought.

Diego said nothing, but she noticed his fist tightening on the wheel. She guessed he would have preferred her to be a walk-over who would have given up on Isla del Fuego long before now, leaving him to brood alone. Hard luck, mister!

Did he read minds too? Maxie wondered when Diego Acosta shot her a glance. She was out of her depth here and they both knew it. She wasn’t exactly a vestal virgin. She knew enough about sex to hope that one day she’d meet someone who knew what they were doing. Diego Acosta knew. She could feel it. While he, like the hunter he most assuredly was, must have felt her heat as she responded to him.

‘There’s just one thing,’ he said.

Only one? ‘Yes?’ she enquired politely.

‘While you’re here you’d better call me Diego.’

She trialled the unfamiliar syllables beneath her breath. And shot bolt upright when she saw the look on his face. ‘Diego it is,’ she agreed, wondering if this might be just another ploy by Señor Acosta to make her feel uncomfortable.

‘While you stay on the island there are conditions,’ he said, adding to this suspicion.

She listened carefully as he listed the risks she might encounter on a volcanic island. She appreciated the heads-up, but it didn’t change her mind. Diego Acosta was by far the biggest danger she was likely to encounter.

‘Stray into caves and get lost—’ his tone of voice brought her back to full attention ‘—or climb peaks that are unstable and I won’t be able to help you.’

‘Bottom line: it would be unwise for me to go adventuring on my own,’ she said briskly.

‘Correct,’ he said. Relaxing back, he fell silent.

Maybe it was the hypnotic swish of the windscreen wipers, or maybe she had been too long out at sea, but the words just shot out of her mouth without the slightest intervention from her brain. ‘Perhaps it would be safer if you showed me round?’ she suggested.

‘Me?’ The black stare was incredulous.

She back-pedalled furiously, not wanting Diego Acosta to think she couldn’t handle this on her own. ‘Or I’m sure there’s someone else who can show me round—Fernando, for instance?’

‘Shouldn’t we let Fernando enjoy his break?’

She could hardly argue with that.

‘I’ll take you,’ Diego Acosta offered grudgingly.

Touring a mysterious island with Diego Acosta was not something a sensible woman would choose to do, but then he added, ‘Who knows the island better than me?’

Maxie could only respond with, ‘Thank you. I welcome any help you can give me. For Holly and your brother’s sake, I think we should both do our utmost to make this visit a success.’

A cynical smile greeted this, though Diego Acosta’s gaze remained fixed on the road. ‘It appears my brother’s fiancée has the most determined of champions.’

‘She does,’ Maxie confirmed, wondering if it would ever be possible to relax while Diego Acosta was around.

‘Is something troubling you?’ he prompted.

‘No. Nothing.’ She was staring at his thighs, Maxie realised, quickly looking away. They both looked equally impressive to her, but as that clearly wasn’t the case she couldn’t help wondering if he might benefit from the same massage therapy she had used to ease her mother’s pain. ‘I was just starting to plan,’ she said, arranging her face in a thoughtful expression.

‘Plans based on what?’

‘Plans based on what I’ve seen so far.’

‘They must be flimsy plans,’ Diego observed, slowing the vehicle. ‘Fernando,’ he said, glancing in the mirror, ‘this is where you’ll be staying until the weather settles.’

‘Gracias, Señor Acosta,’ the old man enthused.

Maxie stared out of the window at a picturesque dwelling painted blinding white. Lovingly restored, it had a flower-festooned entrance and brilliant green shutters either side of tall, arched windows. A cactus garden framed the villa in vivid spikes of green, while the glittering black lava in which it was planted provided a dramatic contrast. Beyond the unusual garden the ocean was slowly turning from sullen grey to crystalline blue beneath a rapidly brightening sky.

‘Do I get out here too?’ She was keen to investigate further.

‘No, you stay in the vehicle,’ Diego ordered as he opened the door to get out. ‘Unless you want to share the single bedroom with your skipper?’

‘No, thank you.’ Maxie firmed her lips. Each time she thought she was getting the hang of dealing with Diego he had some new taunt up his sleeve. And that slack she had thought she should cut him? She was all out of rope.

Maxie sat in the vehicle, tapping her fingers on her bag as she watched the two men stroll up the path. They appeared perfectly happy to leave her to her own devices …

He might have known Maxie wouldn’t stay where he’d left her. He had barely walked through the door when her heart-shaped face appeared at the window. Fernando beat a hasty retreat upstairs. He couldn’t blame the old man. It was time someone informed Señorita Parrish that while she was on the island she did as she was told. He gave her a black look when she smiled at him—his body responded also.

‘This is nice,’ she said when she walked through the door, ignoring his hostile manner as she stared around. ‘Do you mind?’ she said, lifting her camera.

‘You’re here. You might as well.’

She was already snapping away, while he was trying not to acknowledge the pleasing scent of rain-washed air she had brought with her into the house.

‘Perhaps some of the wedding guests could be housed here,’ she mused out loud.

‘I’ll have to see if the cottage is available.’

‘I’m sure you can make it so,’ she countered, with a smile he guessed she used on all her clients. ‘This place is beautiful,’ she enthused. ‘Did you design it?’

‘What do you think?’

She cocked her head to look him straight in the eyes. ‘I’m guessing no.’

‘You’d be right.’ He thumbed his stubble as he watched her at work, cursing the ruined leg that forced him to prop himself up against the wall.

‘Everything’s so well put together,’ she observed as she clicked away.

‘Blame my sister Lucia.’

‘Oh, I think she’s a marvellous designer.’

‘I’ll be sure to tell her you said so.’ He vaguely remembered Lucia saying that her hard-nosed brothers must understand that mellow furnishings and comfortable sofas were essential if they didn’t expect their guests to live like horses in a barn.

‘I love this!’ Maxie exclaimed, touching one of the hand-painted vases reverently.

He hummed and shrugged, refusing to admit that seeing what Lucia had done through Maxie’s eyes was a surprise to him too. Her final camera shot was one of him. ‘Holly will adore this,’ she assured him confidently. Having checked the image first, she brought it over to show him.

Her scent, her warmth, her physical presence after he’d been so long alone almost overwhelmed him. ‘Let’s draw a line under this,’ he said brusquely, barely glancing at the image. ‘I have things to do.’

‘Of course,’ she said, putting her camera away. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve delayed you, but I was just thinking we could use this room in some of the backgrounds for the album.’

‘Really?’ he said, wanting this over with. But in spite of his impatience his gaze found time to stray to her lips.

‘Settings like these,’ she was explaining, ‘will give such personality and uniqueness to the photographs. And these stone walls are lovely,’ she added, stroking them thoughtfully.

He was more interested in watching those small hands trace the centuries-old stone, until his leg chose to throb a warning that he wasn’t match-fit—for polo or for women.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, mistaking his grimace for a look of disapproval. ‘I must be keeping you.’ Another few moments passed. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ he bit out, but his damaged leg called him a liar and dragged as he moved past her to the door. Anger erupted inside him. The fact that Maxie’s breathing had speeded up when he brushed past her only heaped more humiliation on top of him.

‘Don’t worry—I’ll shut the door for you,’ she offered.

Catching hold of the door before she could reach it, he slammed it shut behind them, consoling himself with the thought that he had dealt with more wilful ponies than he could count, and the harder they were to handle at the start the better they pleased him when he finally broke them in.

He seethed all the way to the Jeep. Tossing his cane in the back, he swung in and Maxie jumped in beside him. Her lithe, agile form was another unintentional smack in the face for him, but as she turned to close her door her hair, which had dried into an inky cloud, brushed across his naked arm. He inhaled deeply, dragging in the scent of vanilla and lavender—a delicate and ultra-feminine combination he would never have expected the businesslike Maxie Parrish to choose.

‘Hurry up,’ he blazed as she fumbled with her seat belt. ‘I don’t have all day.’

‘You’ve really been very patient,’ she agreed. ‘I can’t thank you enough for showing me the cottage, and I promise not to take up so much of your time in future.’

He hummed sceptically in reply. She was good at pretty apologies. It remained to be seen how she behaved when he piled on the pressure. It hadn’t escaped him that the faster Maxie worked the sooner she would be out of here—and he could get back to licking his wounds in private.

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