Baby Surprise For The Spanish Billionaire. Jessica Gilmore

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Baby Surprise For The Spanish Billionaire - Jessica Gilmore


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he held out his hand. ‘Leo di Marquez y Correa,’ he said and braced himself. There was no flare of recognition in her blue eyes, no rise of her straight, no nonsense brows. Nearly everyone Leo met had already formed an opinion of him. Most people either disapproved of him, wanted to party with him or wanted to sleep with him. A very few, those in the know, wanted his investment. He rarely, however, met with blank politeness bordering on disdain.

      It would be an interesting challenge to turn that disdain to desire. His blood stirred at the very thought; he did have a few weeks with no plans after all...

      ‘Anna Gray,’ she said after a moment, making no move to take his hand. ‘Dr Anna Gray.’

      ‘A doctor as well as an expert on feminism in Europe’s history?’ He smiled to show he was joking, turning on the full force of his charm to see if he could tempt those pink lips to smile.

      She didn’t respond in kind, folding her arms defensively. ‘I have a PhD from Oxford, not that it’s any of your business. Look, Señor di Marquez...’

      ‘Leo.’

      ‘I appreciate that things look a little ramshackle right now, and I know your sister’s wedding is going to get a lot of publicity...’

      ‘Publicity which will benefit you.’

      ‘But I assure you, we are quite capable of getting everything ready in plenty of time...’

      ‘Then I’m very sure another pair of hands will come in very useful. I’ll make it easy for you, Dr Gray. I’ll sleep on my boat and work for food alone. I won’t even tell my sister just how much needs to be done here. Tell me, are you really in a position to refuse?’

      * * *

      Anna hugged her notebook tighter, her mind working furiously. She should be snatching Leo’s offer with both hands, but something held her back. She didn’t know whether it was the sardonic look in his dark eyes, the smirk playing about his mouth or the teasing tone in his voice. It didn’t help that he was one of the most insanely handsome men she had ever seen in the flesh. Oxford wasn’t exactly short of overconfident men thinking they could win using their charm alone, but the city didn’t run to Spanish pirates, nor was she used to conducting conversations with practically bare-chested men.

      It also didn’t help that her knees weakened every time he fixed that intense gaze on her, that she could feel her pulse speeding up faster and faster. Her friends had been telling her to get out and date more. This must be her body’s way of agreeing if one hard-eyed, hard-chested man could have this effect on her.

      Anna dragged her thoughts away from Leo’s chest and back to the matter at hand, her eyes narrowing as she considered his far-too-good-to-be-true offer. ‘Don’t you have a job to go to? How will you manage to take a month off work with no notice?’

      ‘I work for myself and I am a famously forgiving boss.’

      Lucrative boss if that boat was anything to judge by. ‘It’s not up to me,’ Anna said finally. ‘My mother owns the island.’

      ‘Then lead on. I’ll present my credentials to your leader.’

      Anna tried to hold his amused gaze, but to her frustration her own dropped first. She could stand up in front of a full lecture theatre without breaking a sweat, turn overly confident undergraduates into shaking shadows of their former selves with one disbelieving arch of an eyebrow, but in front of this man her defences crumbled. ‘Fine,’ she said tightly. ‘Follow me.’

      As she led him along the overgrown paths, Anna was aware of Leo’s keen gaze taking in every crack, every break in the path and the surrounding buildings and worry shivered through her once again. Had the resort been on the road to such dilapidation when her grandparents were still alive? They had been pretty old, after all, their staff of a similar age. It would have been too easy for things to start to slide unnoticed by them. Her mother, though, had little excuse. She’d been living here for nearly a decade, ever since she had drifted away from the family home for a holiday, a holiday that bled into an extended stay, which in turn became a separation. The same old frustration bubbled up and Anna curled her hands into loose fists. No doubt her mother had just employed her usual mantra of mañana, never worrying that one day she would have to deal with the rapidly escalating problems.

      Well, she wasn’t dealing, was she? Anna was here dealing for her. As usual.

      Only, who was she to cast aspersions? Wasn’t she doing exactly the same thing with her book? Hoping that somehow something miraculous would happen and it would all fall into place. Running away from her problems...

      ‘So tell me, what does being a Professor of European history with a feminist slant entail these days?’ Anna started, guiltily. It was as if Leo had read her mind. ‘You seem very young to be a professor.’

      ‘You’re not the first to say that.’ Although most people also snidely insinuated her renowned historian father had helped her climb the academic ladder faster than usual, that her name was responsible for her success, not her credentials. Or they looked down at the success of her first book, convinced a popular history book couldn’t be as well-researched, as important, as an academic paper read only by other specialists in her field. It had been easier to hold her head high when she hadn’t doubted herself, when she had been sure that the academic life was all she needed.

      ‘I’m sure I’m not. Is it all libraries and lectures?’

      ‘Mostly,’ she admitted. ‘There’s a huge pressure to publish papers as well as teach.’

      ‘And do you?’

      ‘Papers, books. A book,’ she amended, trying not to think about the mess that was book number two.

      ‘An author? How impressive. Would I have read your book?’

      ‘Only if you’re interested in a rehabilitation of Joanna the Mad from a feminist standpoint, looking at how difficult it was for intelligent women to thrive in a male-dominated world.’

      ‘I definitely missed that one. Joanna the Mad? Is she the one who carted her dead husband’s body all over Spain?’

      ‘That’s one of the myths my book works to dispel.’

      ‘Pity, I’ve always felt that if I got married I’d want my wife to love me enough to keep my corpse by her side at all times.’ Anna shot him a quick glance. Joanna’s husband had been famously known as Philip the Handsome, but surely even he would have paled into plainness next to the rugged good looks of Leo di Marquez. She caught his eye and felt her cheeks heat up yet again. What on earth was wrong with her? She’d never been a blusher before. If she carried on at this rate they could save money on an electrician and use her face as a lamp.

      To Anna’s relief they finally reached the villa. Leo looked at the ornate, white building, more like a Moorish palace than a hotel reception and office, and whistled. ‘Nice.’

      Despite herself Anna felt the old ripples of pride. As a child she had always felt so special, so chosen, to be part of the island’s heritage, to spend her summers in her little turret room surveying the island like some kind of medieval queen. ‘It’s not as old as it looks. It’s a turn-of-the-last-century reproduction built by my great-grandfather as a wedding gift for his bride,’ she explained. ‘This was their own private island, but when my grandfather inherited, he couldn’t afford to keep it as a second home. He and my grandmother turned the island into a resort. At one time, back in the fifties, this was one of the most exclusive resorts in the Mediterranean.’ Anna looked up at the veranda’s cobweb-infested ceiling and tried not to sigh. It was hard to imagine the island in its glamorous heyday right now.

      ‘And now?’

      ‘It’s been a while since I visited,’ Anna admitted. ‘Things are a little less glamorous than they used to be.’

      The problem was the island was expensive to run. Her grandfather had often bemoaned the price of labour and food, all of which needed shipping out; the mainland might be just a few hundred metres


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