Wedding Party Collection: Proposing To The Planner. Aimee Carson
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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.
SHE had had the worst night’s sleep ever. Was it wrong to want a man who looked like a pirate to behave like one? Was it crazy to lie in bed wondering what would happen if she crept to the door and left it temptingly ajar? As if she’d be so stupid. She wouldn’t have the first idea of what to do if she had done something so ridiculous and Diego had walked in. She had heard him coming upstairs and remained absolutely still as she’d listened to the water run while he took his shower. She had imagined him standing beneath the spray naked. No wonder she’d had a sleepless night.
Leaping out of bed, she drew the curtains on a brand- new day. The sun was shining and it was hard to believe she had been greeted yesterday by stormy skies and a glowering man. Opening the window and leaning out, she dragged in the scent of blossom and grass, intensified by the refreshing rain and now the warmth of the sun. So where was Diego? She glanced round the empty gardens, guessing he’d be with his horses. She’d take a shower, make her calls, and then she’d check the agenda she’d given him. She had no time to waste on fantasies involving dangerous men sweeping sensible girls off their feet and carrying them away to make passionate love to them until they couldn’t stand.
But she was only human, and Diego Acosta was one heck of a man.
* * *
He had been up before dawn, after a restless night spent tossing and turning at the thought of a woman he wanted in his bed sleeping in a room just down the landing.
So what had held him back?
Slamming his cane against the wall with a vicious curse, he took a shower and changed into clean jeans, desert boots and the first top that came to hand. Opening his bedroom door, he found her walking down the landing towards the stairs.
‘Good morning, Diego,’ she called to him, oblivious to his black mood. ‘I hope you slept well?’
‘Maxie,’ he said briefly.
‘Are you coming down to breakfast?’ she asked as she ran down the stairs.
Was he supposed to follow at a snail’s pace?
‘Maria has promised to make pancakes today,’ she called back to him as she hurried across the hall towards the kitchen.
She looked so fresh-faced and innocent in her simple top, blue jeans and sneakers. ‘I’m going to check on the horses,’ he said, craving fresh air and the empty pampas.
‘No problems, I hope?’ she asked, pausing with her hand on the kitchen door.
Problems? What? More than she could see as he moved stiff-legged down the stairs? ‘One of the ponies kicked my best horse last night,’ he ground out.
‘Oh, no!’ she exclaimed with concern. ‘I’m so sorry. No lasting harm done, I hope?’
‘I don’t know yet,’ he snapped, frowning. Socialising was good for recovering horses, but there was always the risk they might get hurt, and he felt responsible for what had happened. It was another black mark on the day.
‘Perhaps I can see your horses later?’ she suggested.
Before he had a chance to refuse this request she had disappeared inside the kitchen. His black mood thickened when he heard her laughing with Maria. She was really making herself at home.
* * *
Thanking Diego’s housekeeper for the delicious breakfast, Maxie reflected on the many amusing tales Maria had told her about Diego growing up. It was probably just as well he hadn’t joined them in the kitchen, or Maria almost certainly wouldn’t have opened up the way she had. Maxie had been her usual guarded self. She never talked about her childhood, and preferred to look to the future and build rather than waste time thinking about what couldn’t be changed. She had spent too many nights barricaded in a room with her mother when her father had returned home drunk after yet another failed business