Shock Marriage For The Powerful Spaniard

Shock Marriage For The Powerful Spaniard CATHY WILLIAMS Today she’s a nanny… Tomorrow the billionaire will make her his bride! Tycoon Rafael Almirez heads to Argentina with one aim – to find Sofia Suarez, the woman due to inherit the company he’s poised to take over. When he meets the spirited but innocent nanny, Rafael is astounded. As is Sofia when he reveals that she’s an heiress! Rafael confidently proposes a mutually-beneficial marriage – it’s a practical business solution! But this Spaniard’s potent need for Sofia is unexpected – and changes everything… Today she’s a nanny... Tomorrow the billionaire will make her his bride! Tycoon Rafael Almirez heads to Argentina with one aim—to find Sofia Suarez, the woman due to inherit the company he’s poised to take over. When he meets the spirited but innocent nanny, Rafael is astounded. As is Sofia when he reveals that she’s an heiress! Rafael confidently proposes a mutually beneficial marriage—it’s a practical business solution! But this Spaniard’s potent need for Sofia is unexpected—and changes everything... Enjoy the drama of this surprise wedding! CATHY WILLIAMS can remember reading Mills & Boon books as a teenager, and now that she is writing them she remains an avid fan. For her, there is nothing like creating romantic stories and engaging plots, and each and every book is a new adventure. Cathy lives in London. Her three daughters—Charlotte, Olivia and Emma—have always been, and continue to be, the greatest inspirations in her life. Also by Cathy Williams (#u29463852-34f6-5881-96e9-7da7e5cef3ba) The Secret Sanchez Heir Bought to Wear the Billionaire’s Ring Cipriani’s Innocent Captive Legacy of His Revenge A Deal for Her Innocence A Diamond Deal with Her Boss The Italian’s One-Night Consequence The Tycoon’s Ultimate Conquest Contracted for the Spaniard’s Heir Marriage Bargain with His Innocent The Italian Titans miniseries Wearing the De Angelis Ring The Surprise De Angelis Baby Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk). Shock Marriage for the Powerful Spaniard Cathy Williams www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) ISBN: 978-1-474-08817-6 SHOCK MARRIAGE FOR THE POWERFUL SPANIARD © 2019 Cathy Williams Published in Great Britain 2019 by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. 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Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries. www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) Note to Readers (#u29463852-34f6-5881-96e9-7da7e5cef3ba) This ebook contains the following accessibility features which, if supported by your device, can be accessed via your ereader/accessibility settings: Change of font size and line height Change of background and font colours Change of font Change justification Text to speech Contents Cover (#ud2c1b52f-d574-5eef-8c05-2d8b65680a23) Back Cover Text (#ua7618b4b-0e47-52fc-b222-4ec6d67b6d44) About the Author (#u8fd9d6c2-b549-5ed1-abfc-16e65629396b) Booklist (#ue8c9e8c7-a65f-514d-affa-81a5a2352d47) Title Page (#ud9e63622-0b8c-557f-8587-6c60d341c007) Copyright (#udb83ab2b-7eed-5cb2-907b-b88b9e3bf903) Note to Readers CHAPTER ONE (#ufbf99807-cf97-5af3-b6ec-124d31b73db8) CHAPTER TWO (#u55d6f003-99b9-5a0f-8f9a-1af17acb72e2) CHAPTER THREE (#ub733cd0c-9a3c-573c-95d6-ab736cfb6b76) CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo) Extract (#litres_trial_promo) About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER ONE (#u29463852-34f6-5881-96e9-7da7e5cef3ba) ‘BUT...ANYWAY... I’M glad you’ve come, Rafael. I wasn’t sure whether you would have the time, with this deal you’re working on. The newspapers are full of it. It’s nice that you still can find a window for a dying old man.’ Rafael raised both eyebrows and looked at his godfather wryly. David Dunmore might look the very soul of benevolence, with his round spectacles and his tufting grey hair and his jolly, might-almost-be-related-to-Father-Christmas appearance, but Rafael knew very well that behind that fa?ade there beat the heart of someone as sharp as a tack and not averse to a little emotional blackmail. He also knew that his godfather would never have requested his presence if it hadn’t been something urgent. The more convoluted the road he took to get there, the more significant the request would be and right now, after an hour of going round the houses, the size of the favour had increased exponentially. Rafael relaxed back in his chair, drink in his hand, and braced himself for the long haul. He hadn’t been to his godfather’s house in a while. At least a couple of months and not since the old man had been confined to bed and climbing the four walls. When they met, they generally met at the old-fashioned gentleman’s club David was a member of where, as he was fond of saying, a chap could hear himself think over a decent whisky and food that hadn’t been tampered with by a celebrity chef. ‘Cabbage and cottage pie—who needs it?’ Rafael would routinely retort, both comfortable in a relationship in which easy familiarity was the offspring of mutual respect and great love. Rafael had almost forgotten how exquisite this house in Belgravia was, with its graceful proportions and expensive clutter that harked back to a time before minimalism had become the fashion. Soft Persian rugs covered the rich, wooden floor and artefacts from trips abroad jostled with priceless works of art and dainty sculptures. ‘I thought you’d stopped playing the “dying” card,’ he said mildly. ‘After the consultant gave you the all clear and declared you as fit as a fiddle.’ ‘What do consultants know?’ ‘A lot, considering the years they’ve spent practising medicine. Hillman, as it happens, is top of his field when it comes to dodgy tickers, so it’s fair to say if he’s given you the all clear then the “dying” card is no longer appropriate.’ ‘Well, superficially I may look as though I’m on the mend, but you have no idea the sort of stress I’ve been enduring for the past few months.’ The smile dropped from Rafael’s face. ‘Freddy? Throwing his weight around again? Let me take care of the bloody man.’ ‘You can’t. You have no pull in my company and threatening him with hell and damnation isn’t going to work. Right now, he can tell that I’ve been mortally wounded. I no longer have the stamina or the interest to go into my offices nearly as much as I used to, and he’s been...making mischief. But you know how it is, Rafael. He is my stepson, for better or for worse, and he’s also a significant shareholder thanks to the divorce settlement. There is nothing I can do about him, but three of my trusted directors have handed in their resignations, and I fear he is systematically going to try and get his cronies in to replace them. Five years ago, I would have had the energy to keep more of an eye on the boy, but...’ He sighed. ‘The old guard are ready to go. They’re just allowing themselves to be pushed out slightly ahead of schedule. But that’s by the by. For the time being. No, I asked you here to discuss something entirely different.’ Rafael said nothing. His antennae were picking up undercurrents swirling beneath the surface. The silence stretched and then, eventually, David Dunmore reached into the old-fashioned briefcase on the walnut coffee table next to him and extracted an envelope. He leant forward, handed it to Rafael and then sat back, linking fingers on his protruding stomach to watch his godson with keen interest. ‘What’s this?’ ‘Read it.’ Rafael met his godfather’s steady gaze, his dark eyes veiled, revealing nothing of the sudden cool chill of apprehension sweeping through him. He opened the envelope. One sheet of paper. It was almost a shock to see that it was a handwritten letter because nowadays nearly everyone communicated by email. The writing was decisive, indicating someone with a strong will, and loopy, indicating that its author was probably a woman. He felt his godfather’s eyes on him, and knew that a response was going to be required, but as he read the letter, then reread it for good measure, for once in his life Rafael found himself at a complete loss for words. ‘I know you’re probably a little surprised at the content.’ ‘A little surprised? That’s the understatement of the century! When did this bombshell drop on your lap and how much is it going to cost you?’ ‘Now, now, don’t jump to conclusions, Rafael. First of all, it’s true.’ David sighed and sat back and closed his eyes for a few seconds, then he looked at his godson. ‘I met Maria Suarez over twenty years ago when I was in my late forties. She was just twenty-six and the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on. At the time, I was between wives.’ He grimaced. ‘Shelling out a small fortune in alimony to Fiona and pretty jaded when it came to the opposite sex. Maria was...a breath of fresh air.’ ‘Okay,’ Rafael said crisply. ‘Before you start waxing lyrical about beautiful women and breaths of fresh air, David, let’s cut to the chase.’ The urge to protect—a primal force that harked back down the years to a time when this man sitting in front of him had been his safe harbour in turbulent waters—kicked into gear with a vengeance. ‘This woman, if it even is her, gets in touch with you to tell you that you have a long-lost kid on the other side of the world. Says she’s about to kick the bucket and her conscience has got the better of her.’ He clicked his tongue with rampant disbelief. ‘Question—how does she know where you live? And presumably, if she knows where you live, then she also knows how wealthy you are.’ David shifted uncomfortably and shot his godson a jaundiced look. ‘How did you meet her?’ Long-lost daughter...? Presumably as poor as a church mouse...? In need of some cash...? And that was if there was any daughter at all and if the mysterious letter-writer was who she claimed to be! Could this tender and touching story have any more holes? And, if his godfather was inclined to believe all this tosh, then it was up to Rafael to rescue him from his folly. There was no way he was going to allow any more potential gold-diggers to run roughshod over him and the ‘prodigal daughter’ angle was just the sort of cunning ploy his godfather would fall for. Was falling for, from the looks of it. ‘I was in Argentina all those years ago,’ David reflected with the sort of wistful expression that made Rafael want to grind his teeth together in frustration. ‘Out there for a year, sourcing locations for my flagship South American boutique hotels, introducing them to the concept of the eco hotel. Met her when I was there. My word, what a raven-haired beauty. As sweet-natured as it was possible to be. I fell head over heels in love with her.’ ‘But no happy ending.’ Rafael yanked him back to reality. ‘Considering you returned to London and promptly married Ingrid and kissed sweet goodbye to yet another sizeable chunk of your assets when you divorced her—not to mention bidding farewell to the shares in the company which your dear stepson is intent on taking over.’ He sighed. ‘And you still haven’t answered my question. How does this woman, if she is who she claims to be, know where you live?’ ‘She could easily have contacted me via any one of my hotels—and let’s not forget the Internet, dear boy. There’s no such thing as privacy any more.’ ‘And yet here you are. No raven-haired beauty to be seen for miles and never has been. So what happened?’ ‘I was called away on an urgent family matter. Had to leave without warning, practically in the dead of night. Mother had been rushed to hospital with a heart attack. Left a message with Antonio, who was my right-hand guy over there at the time. Told him to explain... Well, got back and she’d absconded. Turned out she felt she wasn’t good enough for me, that our worlds were too far apart, felt that she would end up holding me back—even though I never, not once, gave any hint that that was or ever would be the case. Obviously didn’t feel as strongly about me as I felt about her. Wasn’t prepared to give it a go. It broke my heart, Rafael. Broke my heart.’ ‘Worlds too far apart...hmm. And her world was...?’ ‘She worked as the chambermaid in the hotel where I was based while I oversaw work on my buildings. She was the love of my life, Rafael, and now...now, from nowhere... I receive this letter telling me that I have a daughter. My own flesh and blood.’ Rafael didn’t say anything. Chambermaid? Had his godfather really thought that he could hitch his wagon to someone who worked as a chambermaid? Not that a chambermaid could have been any worse than the horror with whom he had eventually tied the knot, an Amazonian Swede who had taken him for everything she could get her hands on when, three years post-walking up the aisle, the marriage had fallen apart in a welter of acrimony and infidelity on her part. Not only had she left with a juicy injection of cash and three houses, but she’d also managed to wangle a tasty chunk of shares for her useless son. His godfather was still paying the price for that particular mad dash down the aisle in search of love. ‘I’m filling in the blanks,’ David continued, voice rising in direct proportion to his excitement now that the cat was out of the bag. ‘I think she ran away, just disappeared, but returned to her place of birth at some point because that’s where the girl is. Working as a nanny for an expat couple in the suburbs.’ Rafael didn’t say anything because he didn’t know where this was leading. Eventually, he asked neutrally, ‘Have you had a DNA test done?’ David bristled. ‘The timing works.’ ‘Don’t believe what you want to believe.’ ‘And I won’t approach the situation ready to assume that it’s dead in the water before it’s begun.’ ‘Okay.’ Rafael sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. ‘So have you contacted the woman? The daughter?’ ‘Maria has passed away.’ His eyes clouded. ‘That much I do know. I’ve naturally set in motion the standard enquiries. I’ve got sufficient information at my disposal to contact my daughter and I’ve had enough time to figure out...the way forward when it comes to doing that.’ ‘Long-haul flight to Argentina?’ Rafael looked at his godfather, whose head was tilted to one side while his mind played with the abundance of revelations that unexpectedly had been dumped on his plate. ‘You’ll have to check with the consultant. You don’t need another heart scare.’ Something inside twisted at the thought of that, a mixture of fear and panic. ‘It was more than a scare!’ ‘Tell me why I’m here, David,’ Rafael coaxed gently. ‘As a confidante to this information or for some other purpose?’ ‘I can’t go to Argentina—but you can, my dear boy, and you must.’ He sat forward, as serious as Rafael had ever seen him ‘I’ll make it worth your while...’ * * * Sofia Suarez impatiently tapped her foot and stared out towards the imposing wrought-iron gates that protected the owners of this fabulous property from any strays who might decide to drop in to see whether they might be in luck with handouts. In this exclusive enclave on the outskirts of Buenos Aires, the wealthy always made sure that they were well protected, rarely opening their doors to anyone they didn’t know. They had enough money to make sure that hired help took care of whatever they considered beneath them. Which, she thought now—tapping her foot ever-quicker and checking her watch—was why she was here, waiting for the appearance of a gardener who should have showed up an hour and a half earlier. James and Elizabeth Walters were off skiing with their two young children. ‘No idea why we’ve been landed with this gardener chap when I’ve been perfectly happy getting a team in once a week,’ James had complained to her a week earlier, when he had appeared in the doorway of her bedroom without any advance warning. ‘But my boss has asked me to take the man on as a favour for a friend in London. Anyway, Lizzy and I won’t be around, so you’re going to have to show him the ropes.’ ‘Yes, of course, although you did say that this would be allotted holiday time for me,’ Sofia had said, taking a deep breath and counting to ten. James and Elizabeth Walters were very, very fond of dictating exactly what she did with her free time, even though her hours were clearly stated in the job-acceptance form she had signed a year ago. But she needed this job. The pay was fantastic and she had paid upfront for her online accountancy course. It hadn’t been cheap and, added to that the fact that she tried to help out financially with her aunt, well, unless she won the lottery she was pretty much stuck. Someone in debt was not someone holding any trump cards. ‘We were more than understanding when you had to interrupt your working hours to visit your mother in the hospital,’ her boss had retorted without batting an eyelid. ‘So, grounds for complaint? Don’t think so. We’re going to be gone for a fortnight. You’re going to be twiddling your thumbs, and getting damn well paid for it, so I don’t see where the problem is.’ He had raked his eyes over her in that insolent way that bordered on sexual harassment and stared narrowly. ‘The man is only going to be here for a month at the most. Some nonsense about him needing money while he bums his way around South America. God only knows why these types don’t find decent jobs like everyone else but I have no choice in the matter.’ He’d straightened and stared at her for a few seconds longer than was comfortable and Sofia had done what she always did when her boss made her feel uncomfortable—she gritted her teeth and stared down silently at the floor until he lost interest. Which he had, having reminded her of the thousand other things she was charged to do in their absence, from sorting out the gardener to cleaning the proverbial silverware. So, twiddling her thumbs? What a joke. That was the one thing she could never be accused of having done and certainly not when she was staring at a list of instructions. The blazing sun was sinking into a violet sky when, finally, the intercom went and a disembodied voice announced the arrival of the gardener. ‘You’re late,’ Sofia said, not bothering to mince her words. The man had spoken in English and she had replied in same. A nomadic life had made her fluent in it and it helped that the people currently employing her refused to speak Spanish. ‘I’ve been hanging around waiting for you to show up for the past two hours.’ She could scarcely make out the figure on the visual display. She was keen to get him in and out of her way because she had a busy evening lined up with her accountancy books. It was hard enough finding the time to study without wasting precious hours with her ear to the buzzer. ‘Who am I talking to?’ ‘This is Se?orita Suarez and I’m to show you the ropes while the Walters are away.’ There was a brief pause, and for some reason Sofia felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, but the moment passed—to be replaced with mounting irritation, because a minute in and the man was already beginning to get on her nerves. ‘Are you going to let me in?’ Sofia bristled. ‘I will need to ask you some security questions.’ ‘Why?’ ‘Excuse me?’ ‘Why?’ Rafael repeated. Sofia looked around her at the massively expensive furnishings. ‘El se?or de la casa,’ she intoned with saccharin sweetness, ‘is a little cautious when it comes to allowing strangers into his house. He’s fond of his possessions remaining on the premises.’ ‘El se?or,’ Rafael drawled in response, ‘has nothing to fear. I very much doubt there’s a single thing he possesses that I could possibly want.’ He held up the introductory letter David had handed over to him some days ago. He had barely been able to contain his amusement at the thought of his high-powered and much-feared godson slumming it with a lawn mower and taking orders from someone he didn’t know. ‘Peer carefully and you’ll be able to see that I am exactly who I say I am. Name is Rafael and I’m here to look after el se?or’s garden for a couple of weeks. Rest assured, I won’t be leaving with his lawn mower and the pruning shears.’ ‘You’re Spanish?’ ‘So it would seem. Now, open the gate. I’ve spent hours travelling. It’s been a hellish trip. I’m hot and tired and I’m not prepared to spend the next half an hour sweltering out here while I answer pointless questions that don’t need to be asked.’ Sofia could scarcely believe what she was hearing. For one very wicked moment, she almost wished that James and his stuck-up wife were here so that they could experience a cocky, arrogant hired hand who wasn’t afraid to speak his mind. But they weren’t, because they were busy having fun on the slopes. No, she was here, working, as always, beyond her brief. She buzzed open the iron gates and waited until she heard the sharp ring of the doorbell, immediately followed by the thundering of the lion-head brass knocker, as though the man outside couldn’t wait the seconds it might take her to answer the door. She sprinted and yanked open the front door, letting in the fragrant smell of grass and trees and the soothing orchestra of twilight insects, and then stopped dead in her tracks. Just for a few seconds. Just as she registered the guy towering in front of her, his hand raised as though about to bang the knocker again. Drop-dead gorgeous. The breath left her in a whoosh, as though she’d been punched in the stomach. Her eyes widened and she instantly went into self-defence mode, taking one step back, arms folded, although this time, unlike when her boss turned lascivious eyes on her, it was for an entirely different reason. This time it was because the sudden bloom of sexual awareness shocked her. She wanted to stare and just keep on staring. His black hair was slightly too long and swept back from a face that was chiselled to the sort of perfection no camera could ever fully capture. Midnight-dark eyes were fringed with lush dark lashes, his nose was aquiline and his mouth wide and crazily sensual. Every single thing about the man emanated the sort of fierce, aggressive sex appeal that made her heart beat a little faster and sent liquid heat pooling between her thighs, dampening her underwear. It was an immediate reaction that infuriated her because Sofia knew that she should know better. From the age of thirteen she had known what it felt like to be the unwilling object of attention from the opposite sex. She had fought off unwanted, uninvited advances and then, when she’d been fifteen, one advance in particular from a married friend of her mother’s had made her realise that her looks weren’t a blessing in disguise. They were a curse. Since then, she had been at pains to guard herself against men, holding out for ‘the one’ but not caring all that much if ‘the one’ never came her way—just knowing that she would never, ever sell herself short or settle for anything less than what she thought she deserved. And she would certainly never allow looks to define her the way they had her mother. ‘You’d better come in,’ she said, a little more sharply than she’d intended. She stood back and the guy brushed past her. And there it went again...that tingle of sexual awareness that seemed to bypass all her natural defence systems. She inched back when, having surveyed the impressive hall, he spun round to look at her. ‘Where are they?’ ‘Who?’ ‘The Walters. Where are they? Shouldn’t they be here to meet and greet?’ Sofia was torn between marvelling at the sheer audacity of the man and bristling at his arrogance. He was looking at her, his dark eyes veiled and lazily assessing. ‘I don’t think they were planning on deferring their skiing holiday to give the temporary gardener the red-carpet treatment.’ ‘Nice house.’ ‘Is that all you’ve brought with you by way of luggage?’ She eyed the battered hold-all. Rafael shrugged. ‘I like to travel light.’ ‘Can I get something for you to drink? Eat?’ ‘Is that your job here? Housekeeper?’ Rafael knew exactly what the woman did. In fact, he knew a great deal more about her than she ever could have imagined, because he had done some extensive background checks himself. His godfather might have had romantic notions of destiny throwing a daughter his way. Rafael was a little less trusting on that front. The one thing he hadn’t known was just quite how stunning she would be in the flesh. Long, dark, curling hair was carelessly tied back. Her skin was the colour of pale coffee and as smooth as silk and her eyes were vivid green, densely lashed and almond-shaped. Not exactly the meek and mild goody-two-shoes his godfather was doubtless hoping for. Wasn’t life full of surprises? ‘I’m the nanny.’ Sofia stuck out her chin at a defiant angle. She was a nanny, and she wasn’t ashamed of that, but in her heart she could have been so much more. However, a chequered background that involved far too much moving around had wreaked havoc with her education. Hopes for a rewarding career had died a slow death over the years, because doors never opened for someone with a patchy academic record. Yes, she was making up for lost time now, but it wasn’t going to happen overnight, and meanwhile... ‘Does the nanny have a name?’ ‘Sofia. Sofia Suarez. You never said—do you want anything to eat or drink? Naturally, I cannot raid the liquor cabinet to offer you anything alcoholic, but tea? Coffee? I could make you a sandwich.’ ‘Nothing alcoholic? In that case, I’ll forgo the tea and coffee for some water, and a sandwich would be good.’ He strolled through the kitchen. Big kitchen. Big house. Expensive people leading an expensive lifestyle. ‘Please don’t touch anything,’ she said anxiously from behind him as he began opening drawers. Rafael slowly turned to look at her. ‘If they’ve left you in charge here, they must expect you to open drawers and cupboards.’ ‘Of course, but...’ Slow, hot colour crept into her cheeks. ‘But you’re the nanny and, when it comes to pecking order, the nanny ranks higher than the gardener?’ ‘You don’t look like a gardener,’ Sofia said, changing the subject and turning her back to him as she expertly began making him a ham and cheese sandwich, which was exactly what she had had for her lunch. She hadn’t yet had dinner but somehow breaking bread with this dark, arrogant man sent a trickle of cold apprehension racing up and down her spine. Rafael grunted, watching and appreciating the length of her limbs, the willowy suppleness of her body, the innate grace with which she carried herself. ‘You need to check her out,’ his godfather had said urgently. ‘I know I’m harbouring romantic notions of this young lady, but I’m no fool. I don’t know what she’s like, what sort of character she has. My dear boy, it would mean so much to me if you could check her out, but incognito. She must have no idea of the vast fortune that could be hers, as I wouldn’t want that to influence her responses. ‘To be blunt, I wouldn’t want her to edit her personality to appeal. I would hope for someone kind, considerate, smart...and if she’s not, well, a bridge to be crossed but not yet. Check her out—that’s number one. And then...here’s the sweetener to the deal if you take this on, my dear boy...my company. All my shares. You can move in and troubleshoot my stepson back into place. With my own flesh and blood in place, rightfully there, and you by her side at the helm, all my worries would end. You have said yourself that your own empire virtually runs itself. It’s time you found a new challenge.’ Rafael had no need for his godfather’s shares, although the leisure business would certainly be a healthy addition to his own vast portfolio. No, what motivated him went beyond anything tangible. The bottom line was that David had been there for him, mentor and friend, during all those long years when his own parents had jumped ship to do their own thing. His earliest memories of happiness didn’t involve his parents. They involved his godfather. Without him, his life would have lacked all structure, and God only knew where he would have ended up. David was the only human being Rafael actually loved and there was no request he would ever have turned down. The handover of shares, which would enable him to sort out the problem with Freddy, was icing on the cake. ‘Have you...um...?’ Sofia found that she was flustered and distracted by the play of muscle and sinew just visible beneath the old T-shirt and faded jeans as he strolled to sit at the kitchen table, a vast affair fashioned out of glass and chrome and hideously unsuitable for anyone with kids. ‘Have I...um...what?’ ‘Been a gardener for long,’ Sofia said with strained politeness as her disobedient eyes fastened onto his lean, beautiful face, only to skitter away in alarm because she never stared at any man. It just wasn’t her thing. Least of all an over-the-top-good-looking one like this because, in her experience, good-looking always signalled trouble. Just like that, he looked up, their eyes tangled and for a few seconds she found that she couldn’t breathe. ‘It’s a burgeoning career,’ Rafael said vaguely. ‘And, on the subject of people not looking the part, you look nothing like a nanny.’ Sofia stiffened, wondered whether this was going to be the start of the flirting game. He was going to be stationed in the annex by the pool. Coming as he did by word of mouth, she doubted that he would prove any kind of threat, but he could prove a nuisance, and she was going to be here on her own with him. ‘Do you have a lot of experience of nannies?’ she asked courteously. ‘Maybe you expect me to be older? Perhaps with a wart or two on my chin?’ ‘We could have conversed in Spanish but I am more comfortable speaking English and you’ve answered in kind. You’re bilingual. Not what I would have expected.’ Rafael pushed away his empty plate and then relaxed back with his hands behind his head. ‘Now that we’re on the subject of expectations.’ ‘You’re finished eating. I think I should show you where you’ll be staying. Like you said, you’re hot and tired.’ ‘Is that your way of telling me that you don’t want me asking any more questions?’ Sofia shrugged and didn’t bother to beat about the bush. ‘I suppose it is.’ Rafael didn’t budge. He was here on a mission. The sooner he got the job done, the quicker he would be able to dump this ridiculous charade of being a gardener. The closest he’d ever got to gardening was the book he’d bought the day before he left London. He’d speed-read a few pages. How hard could it be to turn over some soil and run a lawn mower over a lawn? But, still, he didn’t want to hang around. But first he had to get past whatever defences this woman had erected and suss her out. More than that. If she passed the litmus test... His dark eyes roved lazily over her. Graceful as a gazelle and just as skittish... ‘What’s it like, working here?’ He chose to prolong the conversation. Sofia clicked her tongue in annoyance. ‘I thought you were tired. If I show you to your quarters, you can get an early night, and tomorrow I have a list of what you need to do.’ ‘I’ve never been a fan of early nights. What other languages do you speak?’ ‘What others do you?’ ‘French. Spanish. Italian. Some Mandarin. A sprinkling of a few others...’ ‘Very unusual for a gardener,’ Sofia said tartly and Rafael laughed under his breath. ‘Touch?. I learnt them on the various jobs I’ve had over the years. I also have a curious mind and, face it, if people are conversing in a foreign language around you then you need to understand what they’re saying, as far as I am concerned. What about you?’ Sofia hesitated. She rarely got the chance to talk to guys. When she wasn’t working, she was studying, looking ahead to a brighter future. Guys and dating didn’t feature in her calendar, not at this point in time. But having this good-looking man here in the kitchen, asking her about herself... She could feel her guard drop a little. The man was going to be around until James and Elizabeth returned with the kids and chances were that they would be thrown into each other’s company frequently. Life would be easier if she opened up a little. And he was so damned good-looking, so darkly, sinfully spectacular, and he didn’t make her feel...threatened. She was far too practical for a guy like him to get to her, but he was brilliant eye-candy, and it wouldn’t hurt to give a little. At least converse. ‘I... I spent a great deal of my life on the move,’ she volunteered hesitantly. She sat opposite him and propped her hand under her chin. ‘My mother and I actually used to live in this part of the world, and we returned here eventually, but in the interim life was spent with suitcases at the ready.’ ‘That so? Why? It’s a beautiful area...just the sort of place made for roots being put down.’ Sofia shrugged. There was only so far she was prepared to go sharing confidences with a complete stranger, however compelling his attentiveness was. ‘At any rate, we moved about a bit, here and there. Long story, and frankly none of your business. I picked up English from some of the people we met along the way and made sure to practise whenever I could. I’ve always been good at languages.’ And libraries had such huge choice when it came to audio-learning. Wherever and whenever, she’d made the local library her first port of call. In a life of constant moving, libraries had become safe havens, places of stillness and peace. There was a big world out there and she would need to be fluent in English to navigate it successfully. One day. ‘And your mother? Where is she now?’ Sofia glanced away. ‘She died a few months ago. But she’d been ill for a couple of years prior to that. If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not talk about that.’ She stood up and smiled politely. ‘I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.’ Rafael vaulted upright. As he came to stand behind her, once again Sofia was intensely aware of his physicality. At five-ten, she was tall, but he was several inches taller and something about his height, his muscularity, his lazy, masculine magnetism, made her feel feminine and girlish and nothing like the woman with her head firmly screwed on who was determined to control the outcome of her life because she had never had much control over the experiences of her past. She’d moved from her home in Argentina to another and another before her mother had decided that settling down with an American tourist who had been backpacking through South America at the time might be a good idea. He had been ten years her junior and as responsible as a toddler. The marriage had lasted a year and a half, at which point he had disappeared back to his home in Florida, and they had upped sticks and headed in the opposite direction. Story of her mother’s life. Pregnant by an older man who had dumped her, breaking her heart in the process, from there on she had launched herself into a career of making the most of her good looks, which had never faded over time. But that had all changed when, after years spent abroad, they had returned to her mother’s home town where she had spent her final years being cared for by her sister, old friends who had rallied together and, of course, her daughter. She wondered what this guy would make of her convoluted life history. He had landed here, roving gardener, so he must love moving around, never standing still, the very things she had come to loathe. They couldn’t be more different and yet the urge to confide was so strong that it was scary. ‘If you’re ready?’ She eyed his bag and moved towards the door. ‘I have things to do...’ She glanced away from dark, speculative eyes that were a little too interested for her liking. So darkly, dangerously sexy... For a fleeting second she wondered... What is he really doing here...? CHAPTER TWO (#u29463852-34f6-5881-96e9-7da7e5cef3ba) ‘NICE PLACE,’ RAFAEL said neutrally as they headed out of the house, swinging round to the back, away from the main lodgings. Night had gathered around them and Rafael had morphed into a tall, dark shadow, his gait loose-limbed and oddly graceful for a man of his size. Sofia was accustomed to the size of the mansion where she worked, as well as to the several acres of manicured lawns surrounding the house. ‘It’s very big,’ she agreed, breathing in the fragranced air and making sure to keep some distance between them. It was cooler now, with a whispery breeze that lifted her hair and blew tendrils away from her face. ‘Enjoy working here?’ ‘That’s where you’ll be staying. Straight ahead. It’s entirely self-contained, so there will be no need for you to come to the main house.’ ‘Unless I want to.’ Sofia shivered and hugged herself. She had picked up something in that low, lazy drawl but then, when she thought about it, she wondered whether it wasn’t her imagination playing tricks on her. ‘Have you been to this part of the world before?’ ‘This particular country has passed me by,’ Rafael murmured. ‘In that case, I can tell you where you need to go to buy...err...food or whatever else you might need.’ ‘Or you could show me.’ Sofia didn’t say anything. Was this a come-on? It sounded like one but it didn’t feel like one because his drawl was lazy and mildly amused. None of that skin-crawling invasion of her privacy and space that always alerted her to a man on the make. She thought back to all those years ago and to one of those men on the make, but she had just been a kid of fifteen and he had been old enough to be her father—a friend of a friend of her mother’s, drunk at a house party, one of the few her mother had ever had. She remembered the terror of her bedroom door slowly being pushed open and the fear when she had worked out why he had crept into the room. Sofia knew that she might not have had the strength to fight him off and that he had only scarpered because a couple had stumbled up the stairs, opening doors in search of the upstairs bathroom. They had spooked the guy out of the bedroom because, drunk as he was, he’d still known what the fallout would be if he were to be caught. She’d been saved by the bell but it had been a sharp learning curve for her. Be wary had become the motto branded at the back of her brain, and she had lived her life accordingly. Four years later, when she had made the mistake of falling for a boy her own age—only to discover that she had been the object of a bet as to whether he could get the hot chick into bed inside a month—‘be wary’ had become ‘stay away’. She was disturbed that these wayward memories had jumped out of her without warning because she’d always thought that they were buried and forgotten. She slid her eyes sideways. He wasn’t looking at her. He was frowning and staring at the grand quarters they were approaching, usually used as guest quarters for overspill at parties. James had decided that it would do for the gardener, possibly because it would have been unthinkable to accommodate him in the main house. A gardener roaming through their luxury villa and making himself at home in their kitchen would never have done. Sofia stuck the key in the lock and stood back so that he could precede her into the two-bedroomed dwelling. She switched on all the lights and watched as he strolled around for a few seconds before heading off in the direction of the kitchen, having tossed his battered hold-all on the ground by the staircase. She followed. The housekeeper had tidied the place but it felt stuffy and airless. ‘Who usually uses this?’ He appeared in the doorway of the kitchen and lounged indolently against the doorframe, looking at her with his head tilted to one side. ‘Overnight guests. If the big house is full.’ He was so breathtakingly beautiful that she couldn’t help but stare at him. It was almost too much of a mammoth effort to look away. ‘I’m surprised they didn’t choose to stick you in here,’ he mused, spinning around and then heading straight for the kitchen cupboards, which he proceeded to open and close. ‘The very least they could have done was to equip me with a few essentials.’ Sofia gasped and then burst out laughing, surprising herself as much as it seemed to surprise Rafael. Laughing with a guy, any guy, wasn’t something she could remember having done in years. ‘Share the joke?’ He raised both eyebrows and her outburst of laughter subsided into a wicked grin. ‘You. You’re so...so...brazen...’ ‘Explain.’ But he was smiling crookedly back at her, his dark eyes unreadable. ‘You don’t seem at all grateful to be here.’ ‘Why should I be grateful?’ ‘Well, I gather from the Walters that they were more or less put in a position where they had to give you this gardening job for a month. It’s a really cushy number.’ She glanced around her at the luxurious accommodation. ‘And most people would be over the moon to have this place to stay.’ ‘I’m not most people,’ Rafael said. ‘You’ll figure that out soon enough.’ He paused but kept his fabulous eyes pinned to her face, which made her colour rise further and made her heart flutter a little more furiously in her chest. ‘Well, upstairs is self-explanatory. Two bedrooms and there’s linen in the cupboard on the landing.’ ‘You still haven’t told me why you don’t stay out here.’ ‘I...the Walters... James and Elizabeth think it’s more convenient for me to be at hand. You know...close to the kids.’ ‘Actually, I don’t know.’ He began heading up the stairs and for a few seconds Sofia wasn’t sure whether he actually expected her to traipse along in his wake or not. She had shown him the lodge, she’d done what she had to do, and in the morning she would show him the list of stuff she had been given for him to start on. Elizabeth kept a vigilant eye on the garden but messages were always relayed via her husband to the team that came weekly to prune, trim, plant and uproot. He was officious in his dealings with them. He wouldn’t be winning any popularity contests with his employees any time soon. He’d had no choice but to house this outrageous stranger but he had made sure to leave two A4 sheets of paper full of detailed instructions. ‘What do you mean?’ She roused herself from her ruminations and found herself following him up the stairs, stopping short as he pushed open one of the bedroom doors, before spinning around to look at her through narrowed eyes. ‘I mean,’ Rafael said slowly, ‘By having you on tap, well, does that mean that you don’t get any time off?’ ‘No, well...’ Flustered, Sofia met his dark, speculative gaze, vibrant green eyes clashing with dark, fathomless ones. ‘They do go out quite a bit and it’s just more convenient for me to be there rather than having to decamp all the time when I need to babysit.’ ‘And do you get paid extra for all this babysitting? Hefty price for being on permanent stand by?’ ‘Why are you asking me all these questions?’ she threw at him, uncomfortable because he was voicing the very resentments that had piled up inside her over the months. The job was extremely well paid but in return... She needed the money. That was the bottom line. She had debts and nothing had been left when her mother had died. She had returned to ground zero after a long spell away with not much to show for it. One child, one divorce, any number of relationships that had ended up nowhere and only just enough money made over the years to ensure that her mother had enough for tickets back to base camp and sufficient cash as a down payment on a rented condo on the outskirts of Buenos Aires, close to where her sister lived. Sofia had not had the opportunity to do any saving of her own and this nanny job was well paid—their luck with nannies hadn’t been stellar, from what Elizabeth Walters had let slip, and Sofia wondered whether they’d set this sort of honey trap to ensure she wasn’t tempted to quit. ‘I’m a curious kind of guy,’ Rafael said mildly, watching her carefully. So carefully that she began to fidget. ‘Stay a while,’ he coaxed, strolling out of the room, his demeanour that of lord rather than serf. He glanced over his shoulder as she followed like a puppet, which was not like her at all. ‘I’m new to this country. I don’t know a soul. It would be nice for me to have some company this evening, if only to learn a little about the place, so that I can familiarise myself better with it when I get out there to explore.’ ‘You’re here to pull up weeds and plant shrubs, not explore,’ Sofia reminded him, but she felt that tug of amusement again. He was so high-handed that it should have put her back up, but strangely it didn’t. Where she had spent her life trying hard to stay under the radar—partly to deter the advances of lecherous men and partly because she was so focused on her future that she knew that, at least for her, diplomacy was definitely the better part of valour—he was the opposite. Oil to her water, chalk to her cheese, darkness to her light. She shivered, wondering whether the strange pull she felt tugging her towards him stemmed from the fascination she felt when confronted with her polar opposite or whether she wasn’t just lonely. Rafael shrugged. ‘And I’m sure I’ll be doing just that but I don’t intend to come all the way out here and leave...empty-handed.’ ‘What does that mean?’ Sofia questioned. ‘It means that this is a beautiful part of the world and I won’t be burying myself in somebody’s back garden pulling up weeds without taking some time out to surface.’ ‘I don’t think James Walters is going to appreciate your sense of adventure.’ Rafael shrugged. ‘Don’t you care?’ Sofia asked curiously. ‘Why should I?’ ‘Because you could end up with a poor reference. Mr Walters would enjoy nothing better.’ She blushed a bright red. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.’ ‘But you did.’ He began heading out of the lodge and back towards the main house, and Sofia was struck yet again by the man’s arrogant assumption that he could do whatever he wanted, safe in the knowledge that no one was going to object. In this instance, the ‘no one’ just happened to be her. She’d already walked him to the lodge, and left him in no doubt that she wasn’t interested in his company, yet he had decided to ignore her completely. She belatedly remembered how keen she had been to be rid of him and how annoyed she’d been at his late arrival. ‘You don’t like the man, do you?’ he remarked casually without looking around, throwing it over his shoulder as an aside. ‘I never said that!’ ‘I’m good at reading what people choose not to say. In fact...’ He stopped dead in his tracks and stared down at her thoughtfully. ‘I’d say a person can learn more about someone from what they choose to keep secret. If you don’t like working for these people, then why do you?’ ‘Why do you think?’ Sofia asked tartly. ‘For the same reason you’re here! The money. Look, don’t you have stuff to do? Unpack? Touch base with your friends and relatives to tell them that you’ve arrived safe and sound?’ ‘I don’t have much to unpack and notifying friends and relatives can wait. I’ll have that cup of coffee you offered earlier. If you feel guilty about doing something in the big house that doesn’t involve working for them and obeying orders even when they’re not around, then you can fill in some time by telling me what they want me to do around here. Although I’m sure there’s a helpful list as long as my arm.’ ‘One coffee...’ ‘I get it. Then you have things to do.’ This time, he spent a bit longer inspecting the house as they entered. He pushed open doors while Sofia watched, knowing that she should say something but not sure what, because she didn’t think he was going to make off with the family silver. The guy was dressed in clean but worn clothes, but something about him, some instinct, told her that he was no thief and that he saw nothing wrong with checking out his surroundings. She wondered whether his bone-deep confidence was born from the fact that he was so spectacularly good-looking, but then she thought about herself and the way her looks had the opposite effect on her, making her timid, cautious and always ready to bolt. Maybe when it came to the lottery of good looks it was different for guys—she didn’t imagine that Rafael would have been hounded by jealous peers and plagued by the wandering hands of women he didn’t want near him, fearful that they might take advantage. She just knew that he sent shivers of awareness racing up and down her spine. She made them both a mug of coffee and, because she was hungry again, she fixed herself something to eat, another sandwich, while he looked on, his dark eyes watching her with veiled, lazy interest. ‘Is it because you like kids?’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ ‘The reason why you’re here, working for a couple you don’t respect.’ ‘You’re jumping to all sorts of conclusions!’ ‘Am I?’ ‘I’m not asking you a load of questions.’ ‘What would you like to know?’ Rafael murmured softly, leaning back into his chair and angling it so that he could hook his foot under another and scrape it towards him to use it as a footrest. He folded his hands behind his head and stared at her. ‘How did you manage to wangle the job here?’ ‘I have a few connections. Does it matter?’ ‘I don’t suppose so...’ ‘You never answered my question about whether you worked here because you liked kids. Do you have any siblings?’ Again, another question. Rafael already knew the answer but he had been tasked with finding out about the woman, and he intended to do so just whatever way he chose. An evasion here...a little white lie there...so many things could unlock the secret of a person’s personality, and when a fortune was at stake unlocking her personality was more than just a technicality. ‘No.’ Sofia hesitated and her cut-glass green eyes clouded over. ‘I’m an only child. My mother...fell in love with some old guy when she was in her twenties.’ ‘Some old guy?’ ‘Well, my father, as it happens, who was much older than her.’ Sofia grimaced. ‘She didn’t like talking about it. In fact, she didn’t for most of my life, but then when she got ill she began opening up a bit more...’ Rafael was watching her carefully. ‘So where is he now?’ ‘Who knows? It didn’t last.’ ‘Why not?’ ‘It doesn’t matter. It ended because that’s the way most relationships go. They end.’ ‘You’re very jaded for someone as young as you are. Why? And did you ever want to find out about...the old guy?’ ‘Why should I?’ Her eyes flashed sudden, blazing anger. Rafael shrugged. ‘Curiosity?’ ‘I’m too busy trying to get on with living my life to be curious about anyone or anything,’ Sofia muttered. ‘That’s a lie.’ ‘What?’ ‘You’re lying. You’re curious about me. I can see it on your face and hear it in your voice.’ ‘You’re incredibly egotistic!’ ‘I’m curious about you as well. You’re not travelling down a one-way street, Sofia...’ The suddenly charged silence that followed his remark stretched and stretched to breaking point. Rafael vaulted fluidly upright and proceeded to prowl through the kitchen, then he disappeared into the adjoining pantry to reappear with a bottle of wine. He raised both eyebrows at her horrified expression. ‘I’m sure your dictator employers won’t mind if we crack open this bottle of wine to make the time go quicker.’ ‘You can’t!’ She released a long breath, confused and addled. ‘Are you going to stop me?’ He hunted down a corkscrew and a couple of crystal glasses and poured. He held out the glass and, after a moment’s hesitation, Sofia took it. They hadn’t exactly locked the wine away but she’d known, without having to be told, that all alcohol was off-limits for her. She had never had a problem with that because she wasn’t much of a drinker, and she respected the boundaries they had laid down. But that rebellious streak she hadn’t even known existed sparked into life again, filling her with a sense of wicked daring as she sipped some of the red wine. ‘Don’t worry,’ Rafael murmured, swirling his glass and breathing in the fragrant aroma for a few seconds, appreciating the quality of the grape. ‘I’ll make sure I replace it.’ ‘If you plan on drinking any more of this stuff,’ Sofia grimaced, ‘Then you’re going to find that you’ve blown all your earnings before you’ve even done a day’s work in the garden! The Walters are very fussy when it comes to their wines. I have no idea how much this bottle cost but it won’t be cheap.’ ‘Which is why you’re terrified of going near that wine fridge?’ ‘Drinking isn’t appropriate when you’re looking after children.’ ‘And, as you’ve said, you’re on call twenty-four hours a day, every day of the week...’ He strolled towards the huge double-fronted steel grey fridge and stared at drawings that had been attached by magnets to the front, oddly out of place in the vast, modern, clinically pristine surroundings. He un-tacked a photo and peered at it, then he looked at her. ‘This the family?’ He tilted his head to one side and Sofia knew that she was reddening. Her skin felt hot and prickly and there was a throbbing in her temples. Those dark, dark eyes of his were so intense, so penetrating. ‘Yes,’ she replied shortly. ‘Attractive couple. Attractive kids.’ ‘Yes. They are.’ ‘Younger than I’d imagined, if I’m honest.’ ‘Why would you have imagined anything about them?’ ‘Unlike you, I don’t pretend to be incurious. It’s natural to wonder about the sort of people you might be stuck with for a couple of weeks.’ ‘You act as though you’re doing them a favour!’ ‘The man...is very good-looking, wouldn’t you agree?’ Rafael murmured, glancing towards her, keeping his keen gaze pinned to her face. Sofia tensed, her face tight, and just like that he replaced the photo from where it had been taken, seemingly losing all interest in the conversation. In her. Disappointment warred with relief. She looked at the glass of wine in her hand and wondered how she’d ended up straying from the straight and narrow. ‘So what’s keeping you here?’ he asked. ‘Aside from two kids and a pay packet at the end of the month.’ The question temporarily threw her and she looked at him with sudden bewilderment. ‘Isn’t that enough? We all have to earn a living. You’re here, earning a living.’ She cleared her throat, finished her wine and stood up, hot, bothered and so, so conscious of his eyes trained on her face. ‘Anyway, you should...be thinking about heading back to your lodge. You’ll be busy tomorrow.’ She stood up while he remained sitting where he was, long legs stretched out in front of him, lightly holding his glass of wine and idly twirling it before taking a sip. ‘Sit, why don’t you?’ He motioned to the chair and drawled with a ghost of a wry smile, ‘I promise that I’ll leave you in peace when this glass of wine is finished.’ Sofia thought of the empty evening stretching ahead of her and was ashamed to find herself wanting him to hang around. She’d always enjoyed her own company, especially since she’d been working here, because her time was so seldom her own. However, he’d sparked a curious restlessness inside her and the prospect of studying, which had been top of the agenda, seemed dull and boring. Disobedient eyes slid across to him, to the lazy, ‘Lord of the Manor’ way he sat there, sprawled in the kitchen chair, dominating the space around him. Fearless. What sort of gardener was he anyway? She tried to picture him weeding, scrutinising bottles of fertiliser, mowing the lawn and talking to the plants but she couldn’t. ‘Is there someone significant lurking in the background, making all this drudgery worthwhile? He must be very understanding to put up with you being on call twenty-four-seven.’ ‘Drudgery? Drudgery? Who do you think you are?’ ‘Figure of speech,’ Rafael said unapologetically. ‘I resent that figure of speech!’ ‘You’re very attractive but I don’t suppose I’m telling you anything you don’t already know.’ ‘That doesn’t mean...it doesn’t mean...’ She was breathless and had to breathe in deeply to stop herself from shaking. ‘That there’s a significant anyone lurking in the background, and even if there was I fail to see what business it might be of yours!’ Rafael didn’t say anything for a few seconds and she found the silence oppressive, like a dense weight pushing down on her, making her want to justify herself. She thought of her experiences with the opposite sex, the hungry eyes and groping hands that she had always had to bat away. She thought of being the object of a bet, mortified and humiliated at a time when she had been so open to handing over her heart to someone. Was it any wonder that she felt safest when she was buried behind books, studying and dreaming about an uncomplicated future? Other girls her age dreamt of guys, dating, engagements and getting married. She dreamt of being able to take care of herself. When she thought about men, she vaguely had in her head someone unthreatening—dull, even. Someone who would be able to see past the sexy image that was so unlike the girl she was inside and appreciate her for the qualities that weren’t on show. ‘So no boyfriend?’ ‘No,’ she said sharply. ‘Not that it’s any of your business.’ She abruptly got to her feet and made a beeline for the folder she had been given with all the detailed instructions for the gardener whom had been foisted upon the Walters. ‘And what about the master of the house?’ Rafael quizzed softly, feeling her out. Sofia stiffened. It was barely noticeable but he noticed it. ‘What,’ Sofia asked coldly, ‘are you implying?’ ‘Sometimes masters of the house can have expectations beyond the call of duty. Sometimes those expectations are met...’ Sofia clenched her fists and took a deep, steadying breath, which didn’t do the trick. He was being provocative. She had no idea why but it wasn’t going to get her anywhere if she allowed her temper to get the better of her. Letting your emotions get the better of you never paid off. Her mother had let her emotions get the better of her. First when she had fallen for a guy who had dumped her, and afterwards when she had let her heart rule her head, always looking for salvation in someone else, always thinking that she could escape disappointment by throwing herself headlong into relationships that had never gone anywhere. Sofia had adored her fallible mother but had seen the failings and had determined never to be afflicted in the same way. Letting this complete stranger get to her wasn’t going to work. ‘Not in this case,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘I didn’t think so,’ Rafael murmured honestly. ‘But there’s something there, isn’t there? What?’ ‘Let’s get something straight.’ Sofia was holding on to her temper with difficulty and he wasn’t making it any easier by that all-knowing look on his face, a look which implied that he could read her mind, which of course he couldn’t. ‘What’s that?’ ‘You’re here to do a job. I have stuff to do and I won’t be fraternising with you.’ ‘Because I ask too many questions?’ ‘My personal life is none of your business. Now, I’ll show you to the door. Take the instructions. You might want to read them over before you go to bed. There will be a lot to busy yourself with until James and Elizabeth get back. They’ll expect you to have done everything laid out, right down to pulling up the very last weed in the flower beds.’ She thrust the paper into his hand, and he glanced at it as though only really mildly curious as to the content. ‘Later.’ ‘Later? Later?’ Rafael rose to his feet unhurriedly. ‘I’ll be settling in before I start doing any work in someone’s garden.’ ‘Settling in?’ she parroted, staggered and still seething at his outrageous implications. For all that, though, she was furiously aware of the keen beating of her heart and the way, for the first time in living memory, she felt alive to someone else, all her senses heightened, her pulses racing, her skin tingling. Rafael burst out laughing. ‘Oh yes,’ he said in a low, velvety undertone, moving towards the door and dumping the unopened pages of instructions on the kitchen counter en route. ‘I intend to familiarise myself with the place before I go anywhere near a bottle of weed killer or a lawn mower.’ ‘You can’t do that.’ ‘Will you be trying to stop me?’ ‘James... Mr Walters...he can be very short-tempered.’ ‘Really?’ Sofia nodded, but she was mesmerised by the arrogant lack of interest in Rafael’s dark gaze. ‘Interesting.’ ‘What is?’ she breathed, hovering, unable to keep still. ‘Interesting how incredibly unadventurous you are for someone of your age. Why is that? No, I can guess why. Your mother dragged you from pillar to post and your response was to batten down the hatches and pray for a time when the storm would pass.’ ‘Stop,’ Sofia hissed, shaken. ‘Stop making assumptions about my personal life!’ Rafael didn’t say anything for a few seconds but he looked at her, a long, leisurely look that made her breath hitch in her throat. ‘A little adventure can go a long way,’ Rafael murmured. ‘Maybe for you,’ she was stung into responding, ‘but not for me. So maybe you’re right—maybe a life of never quite staying anywhere long enough to put down real roots has made me a bit wary when it comes to all that nonsense about adventure. But I don’t need a complete stranger to start lecturing to me on my life choices.’ ‘Who better than a complete stranger to lecture on life choices? Isn’t that how therapy works?’ ‘You’re a gardener, not a therapist, so I’m not seeing the relevance.’ Rafael adroitly swerved around the interruption. ‘Life is meant to be lived,’ he mused, eyes pinned to her face, noting every change of expression, every fleeting shadow, the flare of her nostrils, the dilation of her pupils, the way her breathing was shallow and breathless. ‘Sometimes, things happen that can’t be predicted...’ He shrugged and grinned. ‘All I’m saying is that I won’t be spending every hour of the day obeying what’s on those pieces of paper el se?or de la casa has thoughtfully printed for me.’ Adventure... Never before had one word dangled before her eyes, beckoning with the seductive allure of a banquet spread before a starving person. She had made all the right noises about adventure being the last thing she wanted in her life. She’d meant every word of it! It was an ideology long ingrained inside her. And yet...he stood there and the urge to be swept away by that low, sexy voice was overwhelming. She physically had to take a step back but her heart was beating like a sledgehammer inside her. ‘I intend to see a bit of this beautiful place, Sofia, and you’re going to be my guide,’ he murmured. ‘While the cat’s away the mouse, I’m suggesting, should definitely play...’ CHAPTER THREE (#u29463852-34f6-5881-96e9-7da7e5cef3ba) SOFIA EYED THE crystal-clear swimming pool with a mixture of headiness and apprehension. Under a dazzlingly bright-blue sky, the flat turquoise water glittered and shimmered and beckoned on a day of soaring temperatures. Of course, she’d used the pool before, but only when the children had been around, splashing and yelling, with the little one clinging to her while she did her best to make sure Josh wasn’t going to do himself permanent damage by flinging himself into the water from the side of the pool while helping his younger sister to keep afloat without arm bands. This time round... Sofia closed her eyes and took a few steadying breaths while she mentally confronted the position she now found herself in. ‘Out of her comfort zone’ summed it up. More than out, she thought giddily. More like teetering on the edge of a precipice with the comfort zone no longer in sight. Amazing what a week could do! First of all, she had let herself be talked into a sightseeing tour of Buenos Aires. ‘Live a little,’ he had whispered in a dangerously soft voice and even more dangerous glint in his dark eyes. Then, in quick succession, there had followed various little jaunts in and around the city, while she had relaxed more and more and found herself dropping her guard and laughing, her curiosity about the stranger who had landed on the Walters’ doorstep growing with each passing second. A stranger who had not bothered to go near the long list of must-dos that her employer had meticulously and maliciously printed off. A stranger who had not, in fact, been near the tool shed, the ride-on mower, the green house or any implement connected to gardening. His audacity thrilled her. She wasn’t going to lose her head, because he wasn’t ‘settling down’ material, and he would be gone in the blink of an eye. But where was the harm in having a bit of fun, as he had cleverly suggested to her? And she was having fun. Lots of it. Even her aunt had noticed. The evening before, she had gone to visit Misa, who lived on the other side of the city where the tall, shiny towers of the city and the exclusive retreats of the wealthy were as out of reach as the moon—even though, from the bedroom window of the derelict house in which she lived, Misa could spy them in the distance. ‘You’re glowing,’ her aunt had announced, pleased. ‘It’s the first time you’ve actually looked like a young girl since you returned to Buenos Aires. There must be a man in your life. Someone special, Sofia?’ ‘I’m not glowing,’ Sofia had protested, but she knew that she was somehow different. She had hardly been able to focus on Miguel, her cousin, who as always was in his room, immobile and frustrated, facing certain physical disabilities after a motorcycle accident at the age of sixteen. For once, instead of sitting back and listening to his despair, Sofia had talked about the stranger who had landed on the doorstep like a breath of fresh air. She’d been full of it. 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