The Argentinian's Solace

‘It is.’

She could have bitten off her tongue when he shifted position to ease his leg.

‘How long have you been in the wedding business, Señorita Parrish?’

‘Please—call me Maxie. Everyone does.’

‘Are you going to answer the question?’ he said, ignoring the olive branch.

‘Both Holly and your brother have my references,’ she said, rattled by this inquisition.

‘It’s a simple question.’ Diego Acosta swung the wheel so abruptly she was thrown into the side of the vehicle as the off-roader lurched onto a minor road. ‘Why should I read your references when you’re sitting next to me and can give me the answers yourself?’ he added, with a certain amount of justification and a whole heap of ire.

Because she had edited her CV so carefully, maybe? ‘I’m happy to answer any question you care to put to me.’ Within reason, Maxie amended silently.

There was a lot of information about herself that she didn’t share—like the fact she had been in business since the onset of her father’s illness and the cost of his nursing care meant she couldn’t earn enough working for anyone else on a fixed salary. She had struck out on her own, determined and desperate, with one goal in mind: her father’s dignity and privacy had to be preserved. And it had been. And would continue to be, whatever provocation Diego Acosta tossed her way.

CHAPTER TWO

‘I’VE been arranging weddings for friends for as long as I can remember.’ Maxie had decided that if she was going to be forced to explain herself she might as well take the lead.

‘And why would they ask you?’ Diego Acosta demanded.

‘I guess because I was always the one who put on events at school. Arranging weddings turned out to be a natural progression of that.’ She only now realised that that was exactly what had happened.

‘How long is it since you left school?’

‘I’m twenty-six.’ And enough was enough. ‘I’ve been a successful wedding planner with my own company for over five years now, Señor Acosta.’

‘My brother led me to believe that his wedding planner would be someone older with a great deal of experience. And excuse me for saying so,’ he added, not sounding in the least bit sorry, ‘but you seem far too young to handle a job of this size and importance.’

‘All weddings are important to me,’ Maxie said, bridling. ‘And though I realise you are unlikely to have heard of me, please don’t judge a book by its cover, Señor Acosta. I may not wear a business suit while I’m traveling, any more than you wear one when you’re down on the dock, but I’m serious about what I do. And excuse me for saying so,’ she added, thinking it better to get things straight from the off, ‘I’m not your brother’s wedding planner. I was hired to do this job by Holly Valiant.’

‘I’m sure you’ll agree with me that Holly has a somewhat rose-tinted view of the island?’

‘As I said earlier, I haven’t had a chance to make any assessment yet. I’m completely impartial at the moment.’

And not about to roll over, Diego realised, fighting off the interest this provoked. If Maxie Parrish had anything to do with it this wedding would happen—and he was on notice. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had decided his agenda.

‘I do wonder,’ she said, distracting him, ‘if the island falls short in so many ways, why you chose to come here to recuperate?’

‘I beg your pardon?’ He couldn’t believe she had voiced those thoughts. No one mentioned his injury in front of him. No one even risked glancing at his leg. His brothers might—his sister Lucia definitely would. But strangers?’

‘Sorry if I’m being nosy,’ she said. ‘I’m just curious as to what drew you here.’

‘Childhood memories,’ he said sarcastically, hoping that would shut her up. Everyone had tiptoed round him since the accident. No woman had ever challenged him. Yet this kid had jumped right in!

‘Whoa—slow down,’ she said, grabbing his arm as he stamped down on the gas.

He glanced at the tiny hand on his arm. She looked too, and quickly withdrew it. ‘I thought you liked speed?’ he mocked her, in a pointed reminder of her claim to ride a motorbike at home.

‘I ride my bike responsibly,’ she said mildly.

She wasn’t scared to take him on.

Seducing the wedding planner had never been part of his plan. It still wasn’t. He must have too much time on his hands even to let thoughts like that occur to him. The type of woman he favoured was older and knew the score. She knew how to dress and what to say. More importantly, she knew when to remain quiet. She did not look like a fresh-faced tomboy, who dressed like a boy and insisted on speaking to him like a man.

‘Are you all right, Fernando?’ She had turned to check on the elderly skipper.

‘My apologies if I woke you, Fernando,’ he said, glancing in the rearview mirror.

The old man was more interested in hearing what Maxie had to say. ‘Soy muy bien … Gracias, Maxie,’ he was saying, in a fonder tone than Diego had heard him use before.

When the girl had settled back in her seat she shot a glance at him. Was she reassuring him that Fernando was okay? Or was she playing it her way and to hell with him? She might look like a kid, but there was a lot going on behind that shrewd grey gaze, and he couldn’t help wondering what other surprises Ms Parrish had in store for him.

‘And when exactly did you learn to skipper a boat?’

‘I helped to crew a yacht once—a friend at school. Her father was mad for sailing.’

He shot her a look that suggested she was mad. He couldn’t believe she had thought it safe to transfer such tenuous experience to the open ocean in a barely seaworthy tub, but it told him something about her. She wasn’t afraid of a challenge. Her cheeks pinked up when she caught his cold, assessing stare. Those pink cheeks told him everything he needed to know. Maxie Parrish might think she had all the answers, but she had none where he was concerned.

A client was always right. A client’s brother-in-law-to-be had rights also—just so long as Diego Acosta didn’t mistake her for a doormat. He had begun questioning her again about how she had grown the business so quickly. His lack of confidence in her was no big deal. It took time to win a client over. And, in his favour, the fact that this wedding was so important to him showed a strong family bond between Diego and his brother Ruiz.

‘I had arranged quite a few weddings already when I was asked to plan one for a friend who works in television. She was so thrilled by the results that when she returned from honeymoon she asked if I could present a wedding feature for Valentine’s Day—the perfect wedding, that sort of thing. Everything took off from there and I haven’t looked back since.’

‘But you haven’t organised a wedding on a small island, where deliveries are uncertain and the electricity supply is erratic at best,’ he pointed out.

‘That’s true. But generators can be hired, and I would have any supplies we need shipped over well in advance. I’m happy to take on the challenge.’

‘I’m sure you are. And you’re nothing if not prepared.’ He shot a glance at her wet clothes.

‘Had I known I would be sailing a boat today, I would have worn something more appropriate.’

‘Why were you in charge of the boat?’ He glanced at Fernando through the rearview mirror.

Maxie checked too, only to find Fernando was snoring again. ‘Fernando was feeling a little unwell and I was glad to help out.’ She left it there. Maybe Diego Acosta was trying to catch her out or embarrass her, but whatever his motive she wasn’t going to land Fernando in trouble. ‘I enjoyed the experience,’ she said, brushing it off as if the terrifying voyage through raging seas had been nothing to her, ‘and I never make the same mistake twice.’

‘I should hope not,’ Diego Acosta replied.

For some reason she was staring at his lips. She quickly looked away. She might be soaking wet and freezing, but her body was distinctly warm. ‘If Holly decides to hold her wedding here and we encounter any problems, rest assured. I will deal with them.’

‘That’s what you’re being paid for, isn’t it?’

Diego Acosta grimaced and eased his leg as he spoke. She’d already worked out his mood was largely affected by pain or lack of it. ‘It is what I’m being paid for,’ she confirmed. And now she was wondering why, with all the money in the world to buy the best treatment available, the injury was still troubling him. And if it hurt so much why didn’t he just take something for the pain, like everyone else?

‘If this job is going to be too much for you, I’d rather you said so now,’ he said, throwing her a lifeline she was supposed to grab eagerly and with gratitude, Maxie suspected.

‘I always make a full evaluation before I come to any decision,’ she explained calmly.

Her work as a wedding planner gave her such an intimate window into people’s lives it wouldn’t be the first time she had been invited in only for a client to draw back and ask themselves if this stranger would be sensitive to their needs, or if their most intimate secrets were about to be raked over and exposed to public scrutiny. Just because Diego Acosta was a testosterone-packed hunk it didn’t mean she would treat him any differently from the rest.

‘I think I’ve already explained that I won’t need to trouble you for most of my time here.’

‘If you stay on the island,’ he said, as if this was by no means certain.

‘Why wouldn’t I?’ she countered, careful to keep her tone bland and friendly. ‘Judging by your earlier remarks, I assume you wouldn’t want Fernando risking his fishing boat a second time in a storm.’

The elderly skipper chose that moment to stop snoring, and lost no time endorsing her words with heartfelt agreement. Maxie guessed Fernando was in no hurry to leave Isla del Fuego until he had received some coddling from Diego Acosta’s staff.

‘If there’s a hotel here,’ she added, ‘I don’t even need to trouble you for a room.’

‘This is a small private island, with a small resident community,’ Diego Acosta pointed out. ‘There are no hotels, as such.’

‘Perhaps bed and breakfast in a private house?’ Maxie suggested hopefully.

‘You will find no fairy godmothers on Isla del Fuego with rooms to spare, Señorita Parrish,’ Acosta informed her.

No wonder. If there had been a fairy godmother her wand would have withered to a twig by now.

‘You will stay with me,’ he said, with zero enthusiasm.

Maxie’s throat dried. Stay with him? Yes, it made sense, but—

When in doubt, smile and say thank you. That was the advice she always gave to anxious brides. ‘Thank you,’ she said politely, and as that seemed to be the end of Diego Acosta’s welcome speech she directed her attention out of the window, to where the stubborn sea mist was lifting away like the curtains in a theatre, drawing back to reveal a scene that would make any audience gasp. Dramatic black peaks soared directly out of the raging sea, while at the side of the road luminous green foliage, made brilliant by the rain, competed for attention with striking banks of magenta blossom. ‘How wonderful,’ she murmured, forgetting the thunderstorm at her side for the moment.

‘I wouldn’t get your hopes up,’ Diego Acosta commented, with a particularly male brand of humour. ‘I live a rough, spare bachelor’s life on the island, with very few home comforts.’

‘I was referring to the view,’ Maxi explained, chalking one up to the wedding planner. ‘It’s absolutely stunning.’ And absolutely perfect for the wedding of a passionate couple like Holly and Ruiz, she thought.

Diego said nothing, but she noticed his fist tightening on the wheel. She guessed he would have preferred her to be a walk-over who would have given up on Isla del Fuego long before now, leaving him to brood alone. Hard luck, mister!

Did he read minds too? Maxie wondered when Diego Acosta shot her a glance. She was out of her depth here and they both knew it. She wasn’t exactly a vestal virgin. She knew enough about sex to hope that one day she’d meet someone who knew what they were doing. Diego Acosta knew. She could feel it. While he, like the hunter he most assuredly was, must have felt her heat as she responded to him.

‘There’s just one thing,’ he said.

Only one? ‘Yes?’ she enquired politely.

‘While you’re here you’d better call me Diego.’

She trialled the unfamiliar syllables beneath her breath. And shot bolt upright when she saw the look on his face. ‘Diego it is,’ she agreed, wondering if this might be just another ploy by Señor Acosta to make her feel uncomfortable.

‘While you stay on the island there are conditions,’ he said, adding to this suspicion.

She listened carefully as he listed the risks she might encounter on a volcanic island. She appreciated the heads-up, but it didn’t change her mind. Diego Acosta was by far the biggest danger she was likely to encounter.

‘Stray into caves and get lost—’ his tone of voice brought her back to full attention ‘—or climb peaks that are unstable and I won’t be able to help you.’

‘Bottom line: it would be unwise for me to go adventuring on my own,’ she said briskly.

‘Correct,’ he said. Relaxing back, he fell silent.

Maybe it was the hypnotic swish of the windscreen wipers, or maybe she had been too long out at sea, but the words just shot out of her mouth without the slightest intervention from her brain. ‘Perhaps it would be safer if you showed me round?’ she suggested.

‘Me?’ The black stare was incredulous.

She back-pedalled furiously, not wanting Diego Acosta to think she couldn’t handle this on her own. ‘Or I’m sure there’s someone else who can show me round—Fernando, for instance?’

‘Shouldn’t we let Fernando enjoy his break?’

She could hardly argue with that.

‘I’ll take you,’ Diego Acosta offered grudgingly.

Touring a mysterious island with Diego Acosta was not something a sensible woman would choose to do, but then he added, ‘Who knows the island better than me?’

Maxie could only respond with, ‘Thank you. I welcome any help you can give me. For Holly and your brother’s sake, I think we should both do our utmost to make this visit a success.’

A cynical smile greeted this, though Diego Acosta’s gaze remained fixed on the road. ‘It appears my brother’s fiancée has the most determined of champions.’

‘She does,’ Maxie confirmed, wondering if it would ever be possible to relax while Diego Acosta was around.

‘Is something troubling you?’ he prompted.

‘No. Nothing.’ She was staring at his thighs, Maxie realised, quickly looking away. They both looked equally impressive to her, but as that clearly wasn’t the case she couldn’t help wondering if he might benefit from the same massage therapy she had used to ease her mother’s pain. ‘I was just starting to plan,’ she said, arranging her face in a thoughtful expression.

‘Plans based on what?’

‘Plans based on what I’ve seen so far.’

‘They must be flimsy plans,’ Diego observed, slowing the vehicle. ‘Fernando,’ he said, glancing in the mirror, ‘this is where you’ll be staying until the weather settles.’

‘Gracias, Señor Acosta,’ the old man enthused.

Maxie stared out of the window at a picturesque dwelling painted blinding white. Lovingly restored, it had a flower-festooned entrance and brilliant green shutters either side of tall, arched windows. A cactus garden framed the villa in vivid spikes of green, while the glittering black lava in which it was planted provided a dramatic contrast. Beyond the unusual garden the ocean was slowly turning from sullen grey to crystalline blue beneath a rapidly brightening sky.

‘Do I get out here too?’ She was keen to investigate further.

‘No, you stay in the vehicle,’ Diego ordered as he opened the door to get out. ‘Unless you want to share the single bedroom with your skipper?’

‘No, thank you.’ Maxie firmed her lips. Each time she thought she was getting the hang of dealing with Diego he had some new taunt up his sleeve. And that slack she had thought she should cut him? She was all out of rope.

Maxie sat in the vehicle, tapping her fingers on her bag as she watched the two men stroll up the path. They appeared perfectly happy to leave her to her own devices …

He might have known Maxie wouldn’t stay where he’d left her. He had barely walked through the door when her heart-shaped face appeared at the window. Fernando beat a hasty retreat upstairs. He couldn’t blame the old man. It was time someone informed Señorita Parrish that while she was on the island she did as she was told. He gave her a black look when she smiled at him—his body responded also.

‘This is nice,’ she said when she walked through the door, ignoring his hostile manner as she stared around. ‘Do you mind?’ she said, lifting her camera.

‘You’re here. You might as well.’

She was already snapping away, while he was trying not to acknowledge the pleasing scent of rain-washed air she had brought with her into the house.

‘Perhaps some of the wedding guests could be housed here,’ she mused out loud.

‘I’ll have to see if the cottage is available.’

‘I’m sure you can make it so,’ she countered, with a smile he guessed she used on all her clients. ‘This place is beautiful,’ she enthused. ‘Did you design it?’

‘What do you think?’

She cocked her head to look him straight in the eyes. ‘I’m guessing no.’

‘You’d be right.’ He thumbed his stubble as he watched her at work, cursing the ruined leg that forced him to prop himself up against the wall.

‘Everything’s so well put together,’ she observed as she clicked away.

‘Blame my sister Lucia.’

‘Oh, I think she’s a marvellous designer.’

‘I’ll be sure to tell her you said so.’ He vaguely remembered Lucia saying that her hard-nosed brothers must understand that mellow furnishings and comfortable sofas were essential if they didn’t expect their guests to live like horses in a barn.

‘I love this!’ Maxie exclaimed, touching one of the hand-painted vases reverently.

He hummed and shrugged, refusing to admit that seeing what Lucia had done through Maxie’s eyes was a surprise to him too. Her final camera shot was one of him. ‘Holly will adore this,’ she assured him confidently. Having checked the image first, she brought it over to show him.

Her scent, her warmth, her physical presence after he’d been so long alone almost overwhelmed him. ‘Let’s draw a line under this,’ he said brusquely, barely glancing at the image. ‘I have things to do.’

‘Of course,’ she said, putting her camera away. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve delayed you, but I was just thinking we could use this room in some of the backgrounds for the album.’

‘Really?’ he said, wanting this over with. But in spite of his impatience his gaze found time to stray to her lips.

‘Settings like these,’ she was explaining, ‘will give such personality and uniqueness to the photographs. And these stone walls are lovely,’ she added, stroking them thoughtfully.

He was more interested in watching those small hands trace the centuries-old stone, until his leg chose to throb a warning that he wasn’t match-fit—for polo or for women.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, mistaking his grimace for a look of disapproval. ‘I must be keeping you.’ Another few moments passed. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ he bit out, but his damaged leg called him a liar and dragged as he moved past her to the door. Anger erupted inside him. The fact that Maxie’s breathing had speeded up when he brushed past her only heaped more humiliation on top of him.

‘Don’t worry—I’ll shut the door for you,’ she offered.

Catching hold of the door before she could reach it, he slammed it shut behind them, consoling himself with the thought that he had dealt with more wilful ponies than he could count, and the harder they were to handle at the start the better they pleased him when he finally broke them in.

He seethed all the way to the Jeep. Tossing his cane in the back, he swung in and Maxie jumped in beside him. Her lithe, agile form was another unintentional smack in the face for him, but as she turned to close her door her hair, which had dried into an inky cloud, brushed across his naked arm. He inhaled deeply, dragging in the scent of vanilla and lavender—a delicate and ultra-feminine combination he would never have expected the businesslike Maxie Parrish to choose.

‘Hurry up,’ he blazed as she fumbled with her seat belt. ‘I don’t have all day.’

‘You’ve really been very patient,’ she agreed. ‘I can’t thank you enough for showing me the cottage, and I promise not to take up so much of your time in future.’

He hummed sceptically in reply. She was good at pretty apologies. It remained to be seen how she behaved when he piled on the pressure. It hadn’t escaped him that the faster Maxie worked the sooner she would be out of here—and he could get back to licking his wounds in private.

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.