Читать книгу The Acostas Box Set: The Shameless Life of Ruiz Acosta / The Argentinian's Solace / A Taste of the Untamed / The Man From her Wayward Past / Taming the Last Acosta / Christmas Nights with the Polo Player - Susan Stephens, Susan Stephens - Страница 22

CHAPTER THREE

HOLLY hadn’t warned Maxie what to expect when she arrived at the Acosta family’s holiday home, so when Diego drove over the brow of the hill she gasped. The elegant stone building looked more like a palace than someone’s occasional home.

Reaching for her camera, she asked, ‘Could you stop here for a moment?’

Diego Acosta drove on.

He had said he was in a hurry, Maxie remembered as the viewpoint disappeared behind them, and she could always come back alone.

She couldn’t have been more surprised when he drew to a halt on the cliff edge and with a nod of the head indicated she should get out here. Not very gallant, but she’d take what she could get.

She had to concede he was right. This was a much better view, Maxie realised as she climbed down from the vehicle. The palatial old house sat on the top of a black lava cliff. At the foot of this a ruffled silver ocean stretched to the brightening horizon. The rain had stopped and the wind had dropped. She hoped the fresh air would clear her head, and made a play of fiddling with her lens to buy some time away from him.

‘If you angle your camera like this…’

She started at the sound of Diego’s voice. She hadn’t even heard him coming. Lightning bolts shot down her spine when he reached across to tilt her camera.

‘You can capture the house framed by the mountains on one side and the ocean on the other,’ he explained. ‘It’s a famous view.’

Thankfully, he backed off while she worked, swiftly and efficiently, remembering he’d said he had other things to do.

‘That was a great camera opportunity. Thanks for stopping,’ she said when she joined him in the Jeep.

The massive shoulders eased in a so what? shrug. ‘Research is what you’re here for, isn’t it?’

‘That’s right,’ she agreed, putting her camera away neatly in spite of the fact that Diego Acosta’s darkly glittering glamour was distracting to the point where her fingers were co-operating like sausages. She was used to men who came in uniformly drab design and were all the safer for it.

They drove into the Acosta holiday home compound through some impressive wrought-iron gates and turned into a cobbled courtyard framed by lushly planted flowerbeds. The planting was in stronger colours than Maxie was used to, but it worked here—the scale, the colour, everything was bold. In the centre of the courtyard there was a fountain, spurting plumes of water into the air, while shrubs and trees softened the edges of the old stone house. And the house, far from being the gloomy lair she had half expected Diego might inhabit, appeared to be a beautifully restored piece of history that had been loved and cherished over the years.

He parked at the foot of a wide sweep of stone steps at the top of which stood an older woman in front of some solid-looking double doors. The doors were open wide in welcome, and were flanked by twinkling windows that gave an impression as warm as the woman’s smile.

‘Welcome to Palacio Acosta,’ Diego said. ‘Or as some have dubbed it,’ he added with a cynical curve of his lips, ‘Palacio Too-antiquated-for-words.’

‘Well, I think it’s lovely!’ Maxie exclaimed, wondering who on earth could have said such a thing. The thought that it might have been one of Diego’s ex-girlfriends made the hair stand up on the back of her neck. Not that it was any of her business.

‘May I introduce our wonderful housekeeper, Maria?’ Diego said politely, standing back at the top of the steps so the two women could meet.

‘I’m very pleased to meet you—’ The words were barely out of Maxie’s mouth when Maria gathered her close for a bear hug. If Maria worked for a monster she was certainly resilient, Maxie reflected when the housekeeper finally released her.

‘I’m going to check the horses,’ Diego said, swinging away. ‘Maria will show you where everything is.’

‘Thank you. And thank you for collecting me at the dock.’ She hadn’t expected him to stick around, but it would have been nice. Nice? It would have been challenging, electrifying, and all the other words associated with extreme sport. ‘See you later.’

Business came first, and bearing in mind Diego’s warnings about the terrain she thought it wise to arrange an agenda with him so they could discuss safety issues further.

Turning, he gave her a look that made Maxie wonder if she had sounded desperate. ‘I imagine our paths will cross again as we’re living in the same house,’ he observed coolly.

‘Whenever suits you.’ She didn’t need to turn her back to hide her red cheeks. He’d already gone. Unaccountably she felt the loss of him already, Maxie realised as Diego limped away.

* * *

The moment he was out of earshot, he rang his brother. ‘What the hell are you trying to do to me, Ruiz?’ Diego demanded furiously, grimacing as he leaned back against a fence post to ease the pressure on his leg.

‘If I knew what you were talking about,’ Ruiz replied, ‘maybe I could help. Your temper certainly hasn’t improved,’ he observed. ‘My advice to you is to get back on the polo circuit as fast as you can.’

‘Don’t you think I want to?’ Diego roared over the crackling line to Argentina, where Ruiz was currently playing the game they both loved, with Holly cheering him on from the sidelines. Shouldn’t Holly be here to deal with her pain-in-the-ass wedding planner? ‘Don’t you think I’m obsessed with getting back into the game?’ he flashed on the heels of this thought.

‘I’ve never heard you so angry before,’ Ruiz commented laconically.

‘We might be brothers, Ruiz, but there are limits to what I’m prepared to do for you. I came here to recover in private—not to play host to some confetti addict.’ He stopped at the sound of a muffled protest, and then sighed as his soon to be sister-in-law, the well-named Holly Valiant, seized the phone from his recently reformed playboy brother.

‘You won’t have to do a thing, Diego,’ Holly promised him breathlessly from the other side of the world. ‘Maxie is the most fantastic wedding planner. She will do everything. You have met her?’ Holly prompted when he said nothing. ‘She has arrived, hasn’t she?’ Holly asked with growing concern.

‘She’s here,’ he confirmed flatly.

‘Brilliant,’ Holly enthused, completely missing the warning note in his voice. ‘There’s nowhere else on earth I would rather be married than Isla del Fuego.’

‘You will have to excuse me, Holly,’ he broke in politely. ‘I have things to do. We can talk about your wedding some other time.’

‘Oh…’ All the air left her sails. ‘Of course,’ she said quickly. ‘I imagine you’re busy with the horses.’

Another long silence followed, and he could imagine Holly wondering if she’d said the wrong thing again. ‘Yes, I’m busy with the horses,’ he confirmed, to put her out of her misery. His attention switched to the ponies in the paddock, and to the one in particular that had fallen on top of him during the match. Months had passed since then, and the horse looked well and was moving easily—which was more than could be said for his owner, Diego reflected grimly.

‘Is there something wrong?’ Holly asked, forcing him to refocus on the call.

‘Not really… There is one thing. The name of your wedding planner.’

‘Maxie Parrish?’ Holly supplied with her usual enthusiasm. ‘She’s great, isn’t she?’

‘Could you put my brother on the phone?’ he said, keeping his voice carefully neutral.

‘Of course…’

He could hear the strand of anxiety in Holly’s tone, and then she covered the handset and said something to his brother.

‘Diego?’ Ruiz drawled, in a voice that suggested there were plenty of things he would rather be doing than talking to his brother.

‘Parrish?’ Diego drove on. ‘Holly’s wedding planner is called Maxie Parrish.’

‘So?’ Ruiz queried.

‘Parrish,’ he repeated.

‘Dream Events is the name of the company, isn’t it?’ Ruiz remarked vaguely, clearly far more interested in his bride-to-be than anything else. ‘Her references checked out. Even I was impressed. There must be thousands of girls with the surname Parrish, Diego. And, anyway, you should be over that.’

Maybe he should be, but he wasn’t.

‘It can’t be the same family,’ Ruiz said confidently.

‘And you know this for a fact?’

But Holly had seized the phone again. ‘Have I done something wrong?’ she said. ‘Please tell me if I’ve done something wrong, Diego.’

‘You have done nothing wrong,’ he soothed.

Where could he begin? And why rake up the past and ruin Holly’s romantic moment? She wasn’t to blame for a tragedy Diego had set in motion all those years ago.

‘Would it be better if we rang you some other time?’ Holly was asking with growing concern.

‘No,’ he said, making a conscious effort to gentle his tone. ‘Tell me about the plans you’d like for your wedding, Holly.’

He felt bad when he realised all the fizz had left her voice, but she soon recovered, and as Holly started telling him her exciting news he drifted back to a black time in his life when he had taken one too many risks with tragic consequences. His time out now, with his injury from the polo field, could only be a relief for his opponents—for when Diego played he remembered what he’d done, and when he remembered he cared for nothing. Which made him a danger not only to himself but to everyone around him.

‘You should get back to the game,’ Holly told him softly, as if she could read some of these thoughts. ‘You’re needed, Diego. Your brothers need you. The team isn’t the same without you.’

He hummed. ‘I’m trying, Holly.’

‘I know you’re training every day. Things will get easier, Diego—trust me. And if it’s my wedding that’s bothering you—’

‘There are other places you could get married,’ he pointed out as Maxie’s face flashed into his mind.

‘But none as beautiful as Isla del Fuego,’ Holly argued.

He gazed in silence across the paddock towards the sea, seeing the view as if through Maxie’s camera lens. It was a scene of almost theatrical grandeur, he conceded. The pewter sea, in perfect accord with his mood, thundered against the black lava cliffs, casting diamond spray into the air. And when the sun shone…

‘Are you still there, Diego?’ his brother demanded, having taken the phone from Holly.

‘I’m still here,’ he confirmed. In body that was true, but his mind had strayed back to the past.

‘How many people in the world have the surname Parrish?’ his brother demanded. ‘I know that’s what’s worrying you. Come on, Diego,’ Ruiz insisted impatiently. ‘You’re the numbers guy in the family. You should know.’

This was true, and was thanks mainly to their elder brother Nacho, whose foresight and love had saved Diego from the blackest despair. Back in his arrogant youth Diego had lost money in a deal gone unimaginably bad, and it was Nacho who had told him that if Diego wanted to handle money he should learn how. Diego had gone on to train as an accountant, and now controlled all the family finances.

‘Are you still there, Diego?’ Ruiz pressed.

‘I’m still here,’ he confirmed.

‘You’re far too tense,’ Ruiz commented dryly. ‘And I think we both know the reason for that. According to Holly, Maxie Parrish is a good-looking woman, and you are on the island together—practically alone. Have you lost your edge, Diego?’

He stared down at the receiver as if this was news to him, and then said, ‘Maybe I’m not that interested?’

‘And maybe you’re kidding yourself!’

‘And maybe you’re in danger of sharing the same rose-tinted spectacles as your bride.’

‘Leave Holly out of this,’ Ruiz warned.

‘All I need is a sound leg, a good mount and a chance to get back to the game I love,’ he thundered.

‘We’ll talk again when you’ve come to your senses,’ Ruiz said, leaving him staring in frustration at the phone.

* * *

‘What a wonderful home!’ Maxie exclaimed, turning full circle to soak up the atmosphere in the elegant and welcoming hallway as Maria bustled round with pride.

‘This house has been in the Acosta family for generations,’ Maria explained.

‘What a marvellous heritage,’ Maxie said, thinking back to her own, very different family home. The father who had been so unkind to her mother when she was young had been broken by her mother’s illness. It had been a struggle for him to keep up with all the extras her mother had needed, so, understandably, home comforts had been low on his list. When a hole had appeared in the sofa Maxie had thrown a rug over it, and on one famous occasion she had deconstructed a carpet sample book to patch the stairs. ‘My mother would have loved this,’ she said wistfully, turning slowly to take everything in. She hardly realised she’d been speaking out loud until she felt Maria’s compassionate touch on her arm.

‘Come,’ Maria insisted, shepherding her towards a magnificent mahogany staircase.

There was no patching here. An impeccable runner in mellow earth tones climbed the polished stairs and was held in place by gleaming brass stair rods. The effect was both impressive and cosy.

It was too late to help her mother now, or to wish that her parents’ lives could have been easier, but at least her work allowed her to earn enough to make her father’s last years comfortable.

‘Please,’ Maria encouraged, pointing to Maxie’s camera.

The Acosta home was so much more than a sum of its parts, Maxie realised as she looked at everything through her lens. The rugs were a little faded, and had been worn thin by the passage of many feet, but they were all the more attractive for that. Everything was a little rough around the edges, she noticed now, but that only added to the ambience of a much-loved home. It was a warm, happy home, and she could feel the influence of previous generations all around her.

‘I love this house!’ she exclaimed impulsively. She loved the grand piano sitting discreetly beneath the sweeping staircase, with a stack of music to one side as if the pianist had just stepped out for a moment. She loved the family photographs clustered on top of it, and the scent of beeswax in the air. ‘There couldn’t be a better setting for a family wedding,’ she said to Maria.

‘Perfecto,’ Maria agreed, nodding and smiling as if she and Maxie were as one.

‘I’m going to call Holly right away and confirm her choice of venue,’ Maxie enthused, remembering that first there was another call she had to make…

* * *

Her first evening with Diego loomed. Oh, good, Maxie thought wryly, wondering how that would turn out as she brushed her waist-length hair for the umpteenth time. Blue-black and gleaming now she’d washed the salt out of it, her hair lifted and floated around her shoulders in most un-Maxie-like abandon. She usually tied it back for business. She had intended to tie it back tonight, but for some reason she wanted Diego to see her looking relaxed, for him to know that he didn’t scare her.

Though goodness knows what they’d talk about, Maxie mused as she studied her perplexed reflection in the mirror. What she knew about polo could be safely inscribed on the top of a pin, while Diego was hardly the typical wedding cake fanatic. But this was work, and she’d get on with it. Replacing the silver-backed hairbrush on top of the lovingly polished French antique dressing table, she stood and frowned, remembering the news from the nursing home hadn’t been good. Every day she hoped for improvement, knowing deep down it would never come.

She must remain focused on her work, Maxie reflected, firming her jaw. Work kept her grounded. Work paid the bills. Work kept her father safe.

Walking across the faded Aubusson rug to the beautiful old armoire, she picked out one of her ‘all occasions’ dresses. In pale cream silk it was equally suitable for an up-town business meeting or supper with friends. It was the dress she chose when she didn’t want to look as if she was trying too hard. She teamed it with a pair of discreet nude-coloured sandals, then applied some shadow to her eyes, and some lipgloss. Now she was ready to face the tiger in his lair.

It was hard to remain tense in such a beautiful setting, Maxie realised as she walked across the room. Mellow evening light was streaming through the French doors dressed with filmy white muslin, while the open windows brought the scent of the beautifully tended gardens into the room. The bedroom was incredibly feminine, with several flower arrangements she had no doubt Maria had arranged, while a grand old four-poster bed took centre stage. Draped with floating ivory fabric, it had a beautiful hand-stitched quilt that picked up all the various pastel shades. She would never choose to decorate a room so prettily herself, but she loved it so much it made her wonder if she’d grown up practical because she’d had to be, or if practical was her nature. The only certainty was that tonight she was having supper with an unpredictable man, Maxie concluded. And he was probably counting down the seconds until she left.

‘Diego!’ It took her a moment to gather herself when she found him standing outside her room. ‘Are you waiting for me?’

He was leaning against the wall, and the look he gave her suggested Maxie was in serious danger of flattering herself. ‘I was on my way down to supper,’ he said, giving her a lazy once-over. ‘I presume that’s where you’re heading too?’

She was burning from his scrutiny while he looked amazing. How was it that some people only had to throw on a pair of jeans and any old top to look good? She could smell the soap from his shower, and his thick black hair was still a little damp and curling wildly round his swarthy face, catching on his stubble. But when he straightened up and she saw the cane propped against the wall she knew he had probably stopped outside her room because his leg was hurting him, and as they walked towards the head of the stairs she tried to measure her step to his without making it seem too obvious. His leg seemed stiffer than ever tonight, and she wondered if the damp weather had affected it. Hanging back, she could see how heavily he was relying on his cane.

He was glad Maxie was behind him and couldn’t see the surprise on his face. Discovering the young tomboy transformed into a poised and confident woman had been a revelation to him. But why was he surprised? She was a successful businesswoman. He just hadn’t had it thrust in his face before. She looked stunning in the simple dress, and he could imagine her walking into a meeting and getting any terms she wanted out of her suppliers—an image that irritated him when he thought of the men she would meet in the course of her work. Perhaps Ruiz was right about the route to rehabilitation and relaxation.

Right on cue the muscles in his leg stabbed a warning that he was more likely to grind his jaw in pain than soften his lips to seduce Maxie.

‘I love your house,’ she commented as they walked downstairs.

‘It isn’t strictly mine,’ he said, putting her straight. ‘The family shares it.’

‘Don’t you think that’s why it’s so lovely?’ she said, pausing to examine an old oil painting of some disreputable-looking ancestor.

The Acosta men hadn’t changed that much, he reflected, then, realising Maxie was waiting for him, wondered if she was taking it slowly on purpose—making allowances for him?

‘I think it’s a real family home,’ she said, oblivious to his blackening mood.

‘Yes, it is,’ he said, waiting for her to go first before he tackled the last flight of stairs.

‘Don’t you love this hallway?’ she said, trailing her slender fingers down the mahogany banister as she reached the hall ahead of him.

He concentrated on her naked shoulders and the cascade of silky black hair tumbling in luxuriant waves to her waist. This led him on the shortest of journeys to the neat curve of her buttocks, clearly visible beneath the clinging fabric of her dress.

‘Well, I think it’s perfect!’ she said, turning to look at him.

‘I can’t see much wrong with it,’ he agreed.

‘How wonderful to have holidayed here when you were children. I love visiting houses like this.’

The last girl he had brought to the palacio had asked for the ‘powder room’ in order to touch up her make-up. Then she’d told him she hated the house. It was so dated, she said, proceeding to give him a list of requirements for her next visit. Fortunately the sea had been calm that day. He’d shipped her out on the next boat.

Maria was in the kitchen with an array of dishes that would have fed an army of gourmands. He ate in silence, while Maxie and Maria chatted away like old friends. Maxie handed him an agenda of things she wanted to cover, and he might have been surprised by her approach if he hadn’t seen her dressed for business as she was tonight. He accepted the paper from her, glanced at it, and got on with his meal, wondering again about the tomboy who could transform herself so convincingly into a sophisticated businesswoman in no time flat. Did she have a boyfriend—a lover? Maybe she had children? He didn’t know anything about her. Maybe she was married? That thought made him tense.

When they had finished the meal and the dishes were being cleared away—a duty Maxie had insisted on sharing with Maria—she tossed him a cloth. ‘Wipe the table down, will you?’ she asked him casually. ‘While I load the dishwasher?’

He stared at the cloth in his hands while Maria, clearly in shock, bustled across the room to take it from him. His grip on the cloth tightened. ‘Take the rest of the evening off,’ he told Maria. ‘You deserve it. And thank you for a delicious supper.’

‘Gracias, Señor…’ Maria said, backing out of the kitchen as if she never wanted to forget the sight of him holding a cleaning cloth.

Maxie had her back turned to him as she continued clearing up. When she’d switched the dishwasher on, she straightened up and turned round. ‘Would you like to see the shots I’ve taken so far?’

Remembering the quicker Maxie got what she’d come for, the quicker he could be alone again, he said, ‘Why not?’

He had to admit Maxie surprised him yet again. She might be an excellent wedding planner, but her photographs were also out of the ordinary. She had shown the island in a way he’d never seen it before, highlighting aspects which transformed it from a forbidding prison into a treasure trove of possibilities. Seeing Isla del Fuego through Maxie’s eyes was a revelation to him.

‘Is something wrong?’ she asked when he grimaced.

‘No. Everything’s good.’ Except his leg, which was cramping again. ‘Your photographs are very good.’

‘Thank you.’ She turned to go. ‘An early night for me, I think,’ she advised him as she headed for the door.

Animal instincts battled with his common sense, while his leg screamed in protest. ‘Buenas noches, señorita,’ he ground out as she left the room.