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

‘Are you okay?’ Ruiz glanced at her with concern as she sucked in a couple of steadying breaths.

‘I’m fine, thank you. So when are you going?’

‘Soon. Very soon. But that’s not what I want to talk to you about.’ He picked up a set of keys. Was Ruiz offering Holly the keys to his house? Why? ‘Do you want me to keep an eye on the place while you’re away?’ She was happy to do so.

‘No, that’s okay—but thanks for the offer. I have employed a live-in housekeeper who will have her own apartment on site.’ He ruffled Bouncer’s ears. Having padded into the room in search of company, the big dog had settled down between them. ‘The town house is a much better option than here,’ Ruiz went on. ‘There’s a proper garden, plus a large communal garden that leads on to the park.’

‘That’s great.’ She kept it light. ‘But I’m not sure I can afford the rent …’

‘That’s very funny,’ Ruiz said, shaking his head, but his eyes were cold as he stared at her. ‘I’m talking about Bouncer moving back there. You’ll stay here, won’t you, Holly? At least until you find somewhere else to live. No hurry,’ he stressed.

‘Of course.’ She laughed. She smiled. She died a little more inside. She should have known Ruiz’s forward planning was all about his dog. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t be here long. I’ve found several flats to look at in the next couple of days—’

‘Well, that’s great,’ Ruiz agreed. ‘But you know you can stay on here as long as you want.’

‘I’d rather not.’

‘Okay.’ He shrugged. ‘Whatever you want, Holly …’

‘I thought I’d move closer to the office.’

Ruiz made no comment and it was a relief to get up and turn away. New Holly didn’t long for things she couldn’t have. She didn’t risk her heart or her bank account. And she certainly didn’t risk her career, Holly told herself fiercely, fighting back tears.

CHAPTER NINE

Concerned you might be left on the shelf? Don’t be. Just think—no shirts to iron, no meals to cook, and you can eat chocolate éclairs for supper every night of your life.

Light-bulb moment, why? Because wallowing in misery isn’t for me, the new me. Friend to lover and back to friends again. I’m told this shift of position is possible if handled correctly. And because I love this man’s sister as if she were my own and I don’t want to hurt her, I’m determined to make it back to friends with him.

And the playboy? Who knows what he thinks? He’s off to Argentina and a life of which I will never be a part. I have to say he seems preoccupied. Perhaps he’s concerned he’s been out of the game too long and might not come up to scratch when he returns to play top class polo. Whatever his problem, one thing I’m sure about—it has nothing to do with me.

HOLLY kept her head down next day at the office. Work was the only thing that numbed the pain of thinking about Ruiz resuming the life of a playboy in the next couple of days, surrounded by sloe-eyed señoritas in Argentina. Work, as well as time-tabling visits to likely rental properties throughout the capital …

‘You haven’t forgotten it’s the Christmas party tonight, have you?’ Freya reminded Holly later that same afternoon.

‘Hmm?’ Holly barely looked up as she hammered away on her keyboard.

‘Didn’t you hear me?’ Freya pressed.

‘I heard you, but I have to work.’

‘For goodness’ sake, Holly. You haven’t even stopped for lunch,’ Freya protested.

‘We’re not letting you get out of it,’ several more girls chorused as they gathered round Holly’s desk.

‘You haven’t forgotten the Christmas party is at the samba club, have you?’ Freya prompted, exchanging glances with her friends.

How could she forget? Another good reason for not going to the party, Holly reasoned, thinking of Ruiz and keeping her head down when the girls shrieked ‘Ole!’ while putting in a bit of skirt-twirling and pouting practice.

‘Hot men, fast music, free drinks. How can you pass that up?’ Freya demanded.

‘Easily,’ Holly murmured, keeping her attention fixed on the screen.

‘Well, we’re not going without you,’ Freya said flatly.

‘Then none of us will go,’ Holly flashed, immediately regretting her outburst when she saw the hurt and surprise on Freya’s face. But how could she go to the samba club with all that it meant to her? It had been such a special night with Ruiz—a night she would never be able to recreate or forget, and she didn’t want to try. ‘Please, Freya. I’ve still got so much to do,’ she pleaded, offering her last piece of chocolate, which Freya refused. ‘Some other night, perhaps.’

‘Holly, this is the Christmas party,’ Freya pointed out. ‘It won’t come around again until next year. You never stop working. You’re in serious danger of—’

‘Don’t say becoming boring. Please don’t say that,’ Holly cut in.

‘I was about to say, you’re in danger of burning out,’ Freya told her with concern.

‘I’m sorry,’ Holly admitted. ‘Truly, I am.’ And when Freya smiled encouragement, she added in a very different voice, ‘Okay, so whose bright idea was it to hold the Christmas party at the samba club?’

Freya’s face brightened immediately. ‘The guys in marketing. Does that mean you’re coming?’

‘If you’ll have me,’ Holly said wryly.

Freya’s answer was to switch off her screen. ‘Go and get ready,’ she insisted. ‘We’ll wait for you.’

She had made some good friends in London, Holly reflected as the girls bustled her out of the office. She should make more time for them, but somehow there didn’t seem to be time for anything these days.

Having tested every part of his body at the gym and found it all in good working order, Ruiz took a long, cold shower and tucked a towel around his waist. He was just opening his locker when the call came through on his phone. ‘Gabe? To what do I owe this honour?’

‘That pretty little thing you brought to the club that time?’

‘Do you mean Holly?’ Ruiz was instantly alert, all thoughts of cutting Holly out of his life forgotten.

‘ROCK! is having its Christmas party at the club and the guys are well into the party spirit. I’m not sure your friend is too happy about them trying to get her to dance. Would you like me to intervene?’

A muscle in Ruiz’s jaw flexed. ‘I’m only across the road at the gym. Can you keep an eye on things until I get there?’

‘Count on it.’

He didn’t pause to dry his hair. Throwing on the same running clothes he had arrived in, he collected Bouncer from the girls on Reception and headed off.

* * *

How was she going to do this nicely without causing offence to people she had to work with? How was she going to get out of dancing with men who’d had too much to drink, and who should have learned by now that no meant no? She couldn’t help but remember Ruiz, and how safe she’d felt with him.

‘Ow! You’re hurting me,’ Holly protested, freeing her arm from one man’s grasp. ‘Please don’t touch me,’ she exclaimed, whirling round to try and catch another culprit. But the more Holly resisted, the more the men seemed to think it was a game. Where was Freya? Where were all the other girls she worked with? Holly frantically scanned the dance floor, but it was so packed she couldn’t see anyone she knew.

And then her heart rolled over. ‘Ruiz?’ Dressed in running shoes and gym clothes, his hair still damp from the shower, Ruiz was framed in the entrance to the club with Bouncer sitting patiently at his feet. With his dark eyes narrowed Ruiz was also searching the dance floor, every fibre of his pumped and muscular body poised for action. The moment he caught sight of her he strode purposefully forward. A path cleared in front of him. No wonder, Holly thought. The expression in Ruiz’s eyes was murderous. With their reflexes dulled by drink, the men around her took a little longer to realise what was happening, but thankfully some primal warning mechanism must have kicked in and they peeled away just in time.

‘Are you all right?’ Ruiz demanded tersely.

She was now, Holly realised, feeling massive relief.

‘I heard you were having trouble.’ Before she could question this, Ruiz added, ‘Let’s get your coat.’ And putting a protective arm around her shoulders, he led her towards the reception area.

‘You’ve come straight from the gym,’ she said as they collected Bouncer.

‘No, I always dress like this for a night out.’

‘Ruiz, I—’

‘Don’t say it.’

‘I will say it. I always seem to be such a bother. So, thank you.’

Ruiz grunted and held the door for her.

They walked home at a brisk pace through the park, icy air billowing in silent clouds from their mouths. They both had plenty to think about, but neither of them voiced those thoughts, and Holly could feel Ruiz’s tension. Only Bouncer seemed perfectly at ease as he trotted along between them. She was grateful to the big dog’s softening influence on a situation that showed no sign of easing any time soon. Ruiz didn’t speak until they reached the penthouse and then he turned at the door of the elevator. ‘What will you do when I’m not here, Holly?’

‘Work,’ she said as the doors slid open and they stepped inside.

Ruiz firmed his jaw, staring straight ahead as they waited for the elevator to reach the penthouse floor. While she knew she had done nothing wrong Holly felt as if something light and good had died inside her and she didn’t know how to get it back. ‘I suppose you can forgive the people at the Christmas party. Thank goodness it only comes round once a year.’

Ruiz remained resolutely unimpressed by her attempt to make light of something that could so easily have turned nasty without his intervention. When the lift doors opened he stood aside to let her pass. She wasn’t even sure he was going to get out with her. ‘Thank you for coming to the club. I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t been there.’

He indicated that she should move and he would follow. ‘If you will excuse me, Holly,’ Ruiz said, holding the door for her, ‘I’m going back home to bed.’

‘You’re taking Bouncer? Of course you are,’ she said quickly, remembering Bouncer was living at the town house now. ‘I’m really sorry to have put you to all this trouble, Ruiz. The silly thing is I didn’t even want to go out. I’m so bogged down with work I can’t spare the time.’ She stopped when she saw his expression.

‘I think you have some decisions to make about how you live your life, Holly. Success is great, but—’

Ruiz’s shrug said it all.

‘I need to get some sleep,’ he said, turning. Before he made the long journey back to Argentina, Holly guessed, as the man she loved and his dog left her life without a backward glance.

* * *

He didn’t sleep. Luckily for him he’d packed for the trip ahead of time. He tossed and turned, thinking about life and what he wanted out of it, and he came up with the same answer every time: Holly. She was all he wanted. He couldn’t make sense of his longing for her, or come up with anything more concrete than the fact that his life was empty without her. He wanted her, not just for a fling, but for longer—for ever, maybe. He’d started to get to know her and he wanted to know more. A lot more. He wanted to give them a chance. He wanted to run with the crazy redhead and see where it led. Almost certainly nowhere, Ruiz concluded, since Holly seemed completely wrapped up in her career. But was that because she really didn’t care about anything apart from her job. Or did Holly’s lack of confidence in her personal life mean she only felt safe when living vicariously through her column? There was only one way to find out.

* * *

If the team leader wanted misery he could have it, Holly reflected the next morning as she hung up her coat at the office. The only consolation was that she wasn’t alone with her hangdog expression. Everyone was a little under par after the party, moving in slow-mo and speaking in mumbles, and then only when necessary. But all that changed when she reached her desk. ‘What?’ she said, looking at the mob surrounding it. ‘What’s happened?’

As her colleagues peeled away from Holly’s work station Holly saw the envelope propped against the monitor. She knew immediately who it was from. Thousands of letters arrived each week addressed to The Redhead, but this was addressed in bold, black script, To Holly.

‘Well? Open it,’ Freya insisted.

Picking it up, Holly held the envelope to her chest almost as if she hoped that would make it invisible. ‘This is private,’ she said, hoping everyone would go away.

‘Open it here,’ Holly’s team leader insisted with his usual insensitivity. ‘Then if it’s anything to upset you, one of us can take over your work so at least something will get done today.’

‘He’s all heart,’ one of the girls murmured discreetly, adding, ‘We’re all on your side, Holly. And judging by the size of that envelope there could be something more inside it than just a private note.’

And why should she care if it was from Ruiz? Holly reasoned. He’d made it clear enough last night that what he wanted was a clean break. Perhaps she’d left something behind in the club and he was returning it, though she couldn’t remembering doing so—

‘It’s a folder from an airline,’ Freya informed her colleagues as Holly peered inside the envelope. ‘And there’s something else,’ she exclaimed, poring over Holly’s shoulder.

‘Do you mind?’ Holly said shakily. Walking over to the window, she turned her back on everyone. She read the handwritten note first. It was another of Ruiz’s succinct wake-up-calls: ‘Have you thought about your life yet, Holly? About who you really want to be? Maybe the enclosed will help. Ruiz.’

‘Are you okay, Holly?’ Freya demanded when she remained rooted to the spot. ‘Have you checked the airline tickets yet?’

Airline tickets, Holly thought numbly, turning her attention to the rest of the envelope’s contents. ‘Oh, my God! This is ridiculous—’

‘What is?’ Holly’s team leader demanded.

‘First-class return tickets to Buenos Aires, leaving tonight. And a VIP pass to a polo match.’ Holly held them up as if she needed everyone else to confirm that they were real. When the shrieks of excitement died down, she shook her head. ‘What a waste.’

‘A waste?’ her team leader queried sharply.

‘Well, I won’t be using them.’ Going back to her desk, Holly sank weakly into her chair. ‘How can I, when I’ve got so much work on here?’

‘Have laptop, will travel,’ the team leader argued briskly, swinging his chair round. ‘You can send copy from anywhere in the world with Internet access, Holly. And if you don’t take up that offer, you can consider yourself fired.’

‘Fired?’ Holly exclaimed, springing up.

‘Wasn’t it you who told me that the “Living with a Playboy” feature had almost run its course?’ her boss reminded her. ‘Don’t you think this trip to Argentina is the key to reviving it?’

And put her life through the wringer again? Did she want that? Wouldn’t it be so much easier to make it all up in the column as she went along and walk away from this? ‘I can’t afford to take time off,’ she said flatly.

‘We’ll cover your expenses and pay your wages while you’re away, as long as you keep submitting the column,’ the team leader said, growing in enthusiasm as he thought through his idea. ‘You’ve just been appointed ROCK!’s foreign correspondent. Just think what that will do for reader figures,’ he added, rubbing his hands with glee.

Reader figures. Great. But she felt empty inside. What was wrong with her? She finally had the career she’d always wanted.

And what a hollow victory that had turned out to be. What about the guy? What about Ruiz?

The thought of seeing Ruiz again was a terrifying and uncertain prospect. She didn’t know what to expect. Could she do it? Could she be with Ruiz again, write about him, and remain aloof? ‘What about me?’ she blurted as desperation took over.

‘What about you?’ the team leader demanded. ‘You’re part of a team, Holly. The clue’s in the word.’

He was right, Holly realised. She couldn’t let the team down—all of their jobs were on the line, not just hers. And nothing was ever achieved by hiding away. She had to get out there and confront life—and Ruiz—head-on.

‘I don’t know what you’re standing there for,’ he added impatiently. ‘Shouldn’t you be going back home to pack? According to this ticket you’ve got four hours to catch your flight!’

CHAPTER TEN

Hope I can read my writing later with all the turbulence—this must be the messiest diary entry I’ve made in a while.

Did I have any option but to accept Ruiz’s invitation? Having already messed up my non-existent love life, can I afford to risk my job as well? And then I have to ask myself this: If I can’t trust myself to take a professional approach and write an article about the playboy without wailing, what kind of journalist am I going to make?

So here I am after a thirteen hour flight, taxiing towards the stand at Aeropuerto Ministro Pistarini airport, more commonly known as Ezeiza after the city close to Buenos Aires in which the airport is situated. Did you hear that? Buenos Aires! Where the weather, according to our hip young captain, is a bikini-basting twenty-eight degrees. Before you get excited, he wasn’t directing that comment at me. With my red hair and freckles I don’t feel a bit out of place amongst all the sultry whip-thin señoritas seated here with me in First Class. As if! I feel more like a suet dumpling than ever—a fact no doubt observed by said captain when he took the precaution of performing a talent-trawl in the First Class cabin before lowering his landing gear. But I will be spending Christmas with the playboy at his family’s fabulous country-sized estancia and no one else can say that. I think you’ll agree this takes ‘Living with a Playboy’ to a whole new level. Buckle your seat belts, my friends; something tells me we’re in for a bumpy ride.

THE first thing Holly saw in the terminal building was a huge poster advertising the polo match featuring the Band of Brothers. Ruiz Acosta, ten times life size and easily the best looking of four astonishingly handsome brothers, staring down at her. She swallowed deeply. Everywhere she looked there seemed to be another poster—another heart-stopping reminder of the darkly glittering glamour that had so easily attracted her. Even the limousine Ruiz had sent to collect her had a Band of Brothers sticker on the back window. A crowd had gathered round to stare and comment and swoon, and by the time she had collapsed onto the back seat her heart was thundering like a pack of wild mustangs.

Surely, this had to be a dream …

But it wasn’t a dream, and as the luxury vehicle ate up the dusty miles between the airport and the Acosta family’s estancia Holly felt her throat grow increasingly tight. Her anxiety wasn’t eased by the sight of numerous billboards advertising the match. Ruiz was a national hero it seemed. But how could this swarthy, dangerous-looking man with his burning stare, earring and tattoos be the same man who had held her in his arms and made love to her—

Forget that. Forget him. You’re here to do your job, that’s it.

She couldn’t think of anything but Ruiz. Even this harsh land was right for him. London, with all its neatly packaged districts, felt a lifetime away as the driver took her deeper into the interior. She had been commissioned to write an article and nothing more, Holly reasoned, trying to calm down: ‘Christmas with the Playboy’. She would also have the chance to watch Ruiz play polo, to see this rugged man with his thighs wrapped around the flanks of some prime horseflesh.

‘The game will have started by the time we arrive,’ the driver informed her. ‘But you’ll see plenty of it,’ he assured her in heavily accented English. ‘That’s if there’s anyone left alive on the field for you to watch by the time we get there.’

He laughed. She didn’t laugh.

Another colossal billboard loomed in front of them like a vivid punctuation mark amidst miles of arid scrubland that seemed to mock her with just how far she was from civilisation and any form of escape. She stared blindly out of the window. What was she doing here? Why had she come? She could have refused.

She should have refused.

And lost her job?

A road that had been deserted for hours was suddenly clogged with vehicles all travelling in the same direction. Hundreds more were already parked up on the roadside and in lines across the fields. Holly gasped with alarm when her driver, using the simple avoidance tactic of pulling onto the wrong side of the road, overtook everything at speed. With a final thump on his horn to warn the other vehicles, he swung the wheel and steered the limousine beneath an impressive archway that led to an immaculately groomed drive lined with trees. ‘Welcome to Estancia Acosta, Señorita Valiant,’ he said, continuing to drive at a speed that had the crowds spraying to either side on the road ahead of them. ‘I’m going to take you straight round to the pony lines where you will find Ruiz, if he isn’t on the polo field.’

‘I’ll be fine here. You can drop me anywhere.’ But preferably not beneath this billboard, Holly thought anxiously as they drove through what looked more like a very busy small town than a family ranch.

‘You might get lost if I leave you here,’ the driver insisted. ‘And then I’d be in trouble.’

With whom? she wondered. With Ruiz?

‘My orders are quite specific,’ the driver went on. ‘This is the most popular event of the year.’

It looked like it, and she was thrilled to see real gauchos, the Argentine equivalent of a cowboy, for the first time. Leather chaps to protect their breeches were held up by coin-decorated belts, while their hats were festooned with bands and laces. There were socialites too—the girls as immaculately groomed as the flashy polo ponies they had come to see. While I am more your sturdy hunter, Holly thought wryly. But then she was hunting for a story, not a husband.

But that didn’t stop her finger-combing her hair as the driver started to slow the car. They were approaching the pony lines now. Mashing her lips together, she decided against lipstick because her hands were shaking too much to put it on. She couldn’t see the polo field as it was hidden by the towering stands, but polo players were stalking about like muscular gods of the game. They wore white, jean-style breeches and either black shirts with a skull and cross-bones embroidered on the pocket, or ‘Acosta’ emblazoned in white in capital letters on the back of red shirts. Some of the players were already mounted with their faceguards down, their dark eyes shielded behind stylish eye-protectors, but so far there was no sign of Ruiz.

‘He must be playing,’ the driver said as a cheer went up somewhere out of sight. ‘These men are the reserves—warming up and standing ready in case of injury.’

Holly’s stomach lurched at the thought of Ruiz being injured.

‘Shall I take you to see him play?’

‘Would you?’ she said gratefully, though the thought terrified her at the same time.

The stands were vast and impressive and ran the length of the field, which was about six times the size of a football pitch and packed to the rafters with noisy supporters. Seats had been reserved for them on the front row and as she sat down Holly’s gaze instantly locked onto Ruiz. She’d have known that muscular body anywhere, though she had never seen it at full stretch like this. As he thundered past the stand in a blur of red top, and white mud-streaked breeches, she felt a reckless punch of full-blown lust. Ruiz’s face guard was down, but she didn’t need to see his eyes to know that he was on a mission and everyone had better keep out of his way. The romantic idea of polo was one thing, but seeing Ruiz’s superb horsemanship firsthand, along with his tactical expertise and sheer physical courage, made it impossible to keep her thoughts confined to business. She was ashamed to admit, even to herself, how much she wanted him.