A Spanish Inheritance

‘None taken,’ Annalisa said evenly, wondering what on earth had prompted her insane proposition.

‘But even if you were to proceed against my advice you cannot possibly take on such a task alone,’ Don Alfonso insisted as he replaced the silk square in his pocket.

‘Why? Because I’m a woman?’

He hesitated long enough for Annalisa to know she had struck a Latin nerve.

‘You do not have sufficient money,’ he insisted, bridging the controversial divide with sheer practicality.

‘I can do many of the jobs myself. I shall seek advice in the village…and I am not afraid of hard work.’

‘It is not the hard work that is my major concern—’

‘And I’ll find the money somehow.’

Don Alfonso looked unconvinced as he shook his head. ‘I don’t doubt your good intentions, Señorita Wilson.’

‘Then what is your concern?’ Annalisa demanded.

‘The power and status of the family you have ranged yourself against may prove insurmountable,’ he explained patiently. ‘Please. Leave it a little while longer before you make a final decision to decline their generous offer.’

‘But I have no intention of accepting any offers. And I don’t need more time,’ Annalisa insisted. ‘My mind is made up, Don Alfonso.’

‘I beg you to reconsider—’

‘I cannot imagine why anyone could be so determined to buy up my land now when it has so clearly been neglected for years.’

‘It was in your father’s hands before he died,’ Don Alfonso reminded her. ‘No one knew why he insisted on hanging on to it. There were many offers during his lifetime—’

‘Which he refused?’

‘Yes, but—’

‘As I shall,’ she insisted, though quite where this sudden comradeship with the father who had abandoned her before she was born had come from she had no idea.

‘And nothing I can say will dissuade you from this course of action?’

‘That is correct.’

Don Alfonso made a bemused sound and then murmured distractedly, ‘I cannot understand it…’

‘And I cannot understand why you are allowing yourself to be influenced by anyone’s interests other than mine.’

He looked offended, and when he spoke again it was in a conspiratorial whisper. ‘We are talking about one of the most powerful families in all Spain, Señorita Wilson. Led by a man whom I should not wish to cross.’ He shook his head in a grave show of disapproval.

Well, if that was meant to frighten her off it had missed its mark, Annalisa thought, firming her mouth. ‘You may feel the need to abide by this man’s dicta, Don Alfonso, I do not.’

‘You can have no idea of what you are taking on.’

‘So, tell me,’ Annalisa challenged. ‘Put a name to my opponent. We’re not discussing some mythical villain, I presume?’

Her elderly advisor bowed his head in dignified acquiescence. ‘No, Señorita Wilson. We are talking about an exceptional man with a mind like a steel trap and a will of iron. I fear you will find Ramon di Crianza Perez a most formidable adversary.’

Annalisa’s wide mouth softened, images of sun-kissed flesh and rippling muscles uppermost in her mind.

Misreading her expression, Don Alfonso warned, ‘It would be a mistake to underestimate Ramon Perez.’

‘He’s not such a monster,’ she reflected absently.

‘You know him!’

‘I have—’ Annalisa stopped, taking care over her choice of words. ‘I met Señor Perez briefly. He seemed perfectly civil—’

The lawyer’s frown deepened. ‘Forgive me, Señorita Wilson, but you are a young lady in her mid-twenties with limited experience—’

‘I am a working woman with a law degree,’ Annalisa returned sharply.

‘You would be most unwise to take Ramon Perez lightly.’

I would be most unwise to take him at all, she reminded herself wryly. Apart from the knowledge that she would be playing well out of her league, Ramon Perez was a married man. ‘I shall treat Señor Crianza Perez exactly as I would treat anyone else,’ she said confidently.

Don Alfonso shook his head. ‘I’m afraid that may not prove an effective tactic in this case.’

‘Well, we will just have to find a way to make Señor Perez understand that finca Fuego Montoya is not up for sale, Don Alfonso. This is my home,’ she said with a sweeping gesture. ‘And I intend to stay here for the rest of my life.’

The lawyer sucked in a deep breath as he flagged up his defeat with his hands. ‘So be it, Señorita Wilson. If those are your instructions—’

‘They are, Don Alfonso,’ Annalisa said firmly.

She was out in the yard when the low-slung black car screamed to a halt. Tossing back her wrist-thick ebony plait, Annalisa wiped her arm across her face as she waited for the dust cloud to settle. When she saw who was coming towards her she tensed. What on earth was Ramon Perez doing here? And why had she decided today of all days to emulate the local women by tucking her lightweight cotton skirt into her underwear while she worked?

Her mind revolved like a Catherine wheel, throwing off excuses…the hen hutches needed repairing…her shorts were drying on the line…

‘Buenos días, señorita!’ Ramon called out as he strode towards her, swiping the thick coating of limestone dust off his close-fitting jeans.

As he drew nearer she could see his sensuous mouth beginning to curve in the suspicion of a grin. And then he scanned her from head to foot.

‘I like your outfit,’ he commented approvingly.

Damn! Damn! Damn! Annalisa thought, wrenching her skirt free.

This was not the sort of meeting she had anticipated! She had instructed Don Alfonso to arrange something very different. Something cool and collected in the centre of town. In his shady, peaceful office—wearing suits, for goodness’ sake!

‘Thank you,’ she said, hoping there was enough of a casual note in her voice to fool Ramon into believing she was as composed as he was. She smoothed the crumpled fabric to a modest length around her calves and plucked at the low-cut cotton top that had once been white. ‘I bought it in the village.’

‘I would never have guessed,’ he murmured, turning away to study the various outbuildings before she had a chance to gauge his expression.

Even when the attention of those dark and disturbing eyes was deflected he had presence to spare, Annalisa thought, wishing she could relax.

‘You have plenty of work ahead of you,’ he called back to her. ‘These barns don’t look too safe. You mustn’t think of housing animals.’

‘I have no intention of doing so.’ She wished she could keep the edginess out of her voice. But the sight of those strong tanned hands thrust into the pockets of his jeans—

He fielded her peppery response with a laconic, ‘Forgive me, Annalisa. I am sure you will take every precaution. I did not mean to challenge your intentions.’

But his eyes said otherwise. They were watchful and amused as he turned to face her while he raked his thick black hair into order.

‘That’s OK,’ Annalisa lied, knowing her pale skin betrayed her feelings at the most inappropriate moments. ‘So, why are you here, Señor Perez?’

A grin tugged at one corner of his mouth. ‘I would have thought that was obvious.’ When she didn’t answer, he explained, ‘To see you, of course.’

‘Me?’ He was viewing her discomfort with a worrying degree of interest, she thought.

He gave a brief nod. ‘Don Alfonso came to see me on your behalf…to arrange a meeting. To discuss water rights.’

Annalisa tensed. He didn’t need to say any more. The water was her Achilles’ heel. If she was going to restore the orange groves, the closest source of fresh water ran across Ramon’s land. ‘In town. In his office,’ she agreed quickly. ‘Not here.’

‘Why not here?’

She squared her shoulders, as if signalling her refusal to be drawn into a debate out of the hearing of her lawyer. ‘What have you really come for, Señor Perez?’

Ramon dipped his head to bait her with his compelling stare. ‘To make sure you got home safely.’

‘Ah, yes,’ Annalisa said awkwardly, realising she should have said something sooner. ‘I can’t thank you and Margarita enough—’

He brushed off her gratitude with a gesture. ‘And to return this,’ he said, uncurling one large fist to reveal her tiny bikini.

A sharp sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan escaped her lips as she stepped forward to take it from him. But as one looping bra strap fell over her fingers, he reeled her in with a snap of his wrist. For a long moment they both stood motionless. Then at last he murmured, ‘Do you like playing games with me, Annalisa?’

Every tiny hair on her body stood erect as his warm breath caressed her senses. She had no way of seeing the expression on his face. At that moment her eyes were level with the third button down on his shirt. Was he talking about the water rights…the sale of the finca? Or something else…something on a far more personal level? That possibility made her shake her head emphatically as she struggled to remain immune to the very masculine heat coming from him. It was a heat with very different properties from the scorching midday sun. It was a heat that beat at her senses with unrelenting purpose…

‘Would you like to?’ he growled, so close to her ear that she shivered involuntarily. And then, as if he had received the answer he was looking for, he laughed as if it was indeed just a game to him and let her go.

‘I think it’s you who is playing games,’ Annalisa declared, struggling to hide the fact that she was very shaken indeed. ‘But thank you anyway for returning my—’

‘I was curious to see for myself the condition of the estate,’ Ramon broke in, as if nothing unusual had passed between them.

How could he change pace as smoothly as that? Annalisa wondered, fighting for equilibrium as he moved away from her to stroll around the yard.

If Don Alfonso had wanted to remind her that Ramon Perez was unlike any other man she had ever met, he could not have orchestrated a better demonstration! And the fact that Ramon was forbidden fruit failed to stop her heart from careering around her chest—whilst apparently he was able to remain detached and totally in control.

Her mouth firmed into a determined line as she weighed him up. Just acknowledging the attraction she felt for him was enough to make her feel guilty. But guilt was an emotion that seemed to have bypassed Ramon Perez completely. To hell with gratitude! This was power play at its most refined. It was time to sharpen up her game and get her mind back in gear. The way he was prowling around her yard proved that this visit was nothing more than an excuse to take stock…to weigh up the opposition. But at least this was the sort of predator she could understand…and deal with. All Ramon Perez cared about was gauging how little he would need to pay to take the finca off her hands!

‘Have you seen everything you came for now?’ Annalisa demanded.

‘For now,’ he agreed. ‘And I’m glad I came—’

‘To evaluate the competition?’ she supplied tersely.

He allowed the silence to hang between them for a few moments, and when he did speak his voice sounded mildly bemused. ‘Competition, Annalisa?’

The challenge pierced her defences, releasing a flood of sensation into her tense frame. Too late to bite off her tongue! The damage was done. She had to tread a lot more carefully. Know your enemy… Don’t reveal all your cards at once… As far as Ramon knew, she was just some small-town girl getting in his way…an easy target. Far better to leave it like that than to give him any advance warning of her plans…

Her plans? Annalisa’s glance swept the ground as Ramon continued to study her. She had plenty of dreams…but no plans…not yet. They couldn’t be formulated until she knew exactly what it would take to launch the orange groves as a commercial venture. The only thing she was sure about was that nothing could be accomplished without the fresh water that ran across Ramon’s land.

Suddenly the enormity of the task she was taking on hit her square in the chest. The last thing she needed was to alert Ramon to the fact that everything hinged on him—or that where fruit production was concerned she was a complete novice. To have the slightest hope of allaying his suspicions she had to show more self-assurance, put everything back on a business footing—broach the subject of his water when his guard was down.

‘Won’t you come inside for a cooling drink?’ she suggested briskly, heading off towards the house. But her heart was beating so hard she felt sure he would hear it. Perhaps he wouldn’t follow. Self-assurance was all very well in theory!

But as she reached the heavy iron-studded front door she realised he was right behind her.

‘I’d love a drink,’ he murmured. ‘If it’s not too much trouble?’

‘No trouble at all,’ she said, trying to ignore the tingles of awareness spinning up and down her spine.

The moment she closed the door behind them she knew it was a mistake. Her hand was actually trembling when she lifted it away from the handle. Enclosed within four walls, Ramon’s presence seemed to invade every nook and cranny. It was as if she was seeing the homely room for the first time—but through his eyes. On her way to the business end of the kitchen she managed to backhand a stack of documents into the bureau, plump a couple of cushions on the sofa and sweep up her mug and plate from breakfast, all without breaking stride.

‘Don’t go to any trouble on my account,’ he drawled, when she discreetly removed the contents of the draining board and put them in the sink.

‘I’m not. I—’ Having given him the best she could manage in coolly composed faces, Annalisa found her gaze trapped by a pair of very dangerous black eyes…and it seemed a very long time indeed before he turned away to inhale deeply and appreciatively.

‘You’ve certainly breathed fresh life into the old place.’

So he had visited the finca before. Probably as soon as her father died…looking around the place with a view to buy… And that, more than likely, was exactly what he was doing now! But in spite of every misgiving she was proud of the newly decorated interior. She had completed every bit herself and he was the first person to see the changes.

She had kept everything simple and in keeping with the rustic setting. The kitchen floor was tiled in natural terracotta and she had placed a huge rug in shades of russet, cream and slate blue in the centre of the room. There was a wicker basket full of fruit on the scrubbed table, and another containing vegetables awaiting preparation by the sink. She had dressed the windows with simple linen blinds and a profusion of plants and herbs competed for space on each window ledge.

He made a sound of approval as he turned full circle. ‘Congratulations. I’m impressed.’

Praise indeed! She relaxed a little. ‘What would you like to drink?’

‘Chilled water.’

While she was busy at the dresser, fetching tumblers, she watched him out of the corner of her eye—roaming about while he waited, running his hands along the walls and stopping occasionally to give them a sharp rap with his closed fist. Her thoughts were in turmoil because…because he was acting like a prospective purchaser, she decided hotly.

As his gaze tracked across the ceiling she heard him murmur thoughtfully, ‘Structural improvements will have to be made before next winter.’

‘I have already come to that conclusion myself, Señor Perez,’ Annalisa heard herself snap as she held out the glass of water.

The ghost of a smile was the only sign that he had registered her ruffled tone of voice. ‘I am sure you have,’ he agreed pleasantly. ‘Why don’t you call me Ramon, Annalisa? Señor Perez sounds so formal.’

Common sense screamed at her to keep the relationship on a formal footing, but pride insisted they were equals. Why not call him by his first name? He had no difficulty using hers. But as she poured herself a glass of water Annalisa realised her hands were still trembling. Ramon’s invasion of this, her private space, was far more unnerving than she could ever have anticipated.

Avoiding eye contact as she shucked some ice into the glass, she drank deeply, relishing the cool sensation as it tracked through a body that was perilously overheated.

Waiting until she had come out of hiding from behind the glass, Ramon issued a reminder. ‘It was you who called a meeting between us.’

‘Yes,’ Annalisa protested, ‘but I don’t propose to hold it here…now.’

The look he gave her suggested that Ramon Perez was a man who had never learned the meaning of the word no.

‘OK,’ he said without missing a beat. ‘Let’s make it dinner.’

CHAPTER TWO

‘DINNER!’

‘Don’t sound so shocked,’ Ramon insisted. ‘I’m only suggesting a light meal…fresh fish…’ Then he shrugged, adding as an afterthought, ‘And perhaps a drop of champagne.’

‘Don’t you think it’s a little early for celebrations?’ Annalisa jumped in defensively. She might be eager to start discussions about water rights, but champagne made it all sound too much like a fait accompli—for him!

‘We both have to eat,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘If we do so together we can talk things through. Unless you have other plans, of course?’

She tried racking her brain for some excuse, but every brain cell was on strike. ‘Well… No, I don’t… But—’

‘But?’ Ramon queried, one sable brow raised in sardonic challenge.

How could he even ask? She steeled herself to ask the question. ‘What about Margarita?’

He frowned. ‘Margarita is in England at the moment. She was sorry to miss you at the house. She was packing. Well, Annalisa? What do you say?’

‘Say?’ she repeated, transfixed by the sight of his lean tanned fingers feathering an exploration over the tender surface of one of her plants.

‘Dinner. Tonight,’ he repeated, more sharply.

It would be a statement, not a question, she realised, if she didn’t get her brain in gear fast. ‘I don’t think Margarita—’

‘What the hell has Margarita got to do with this?’ Ramon demanded impatiently.

‘But she’s your—’

‘Margarita does not interest herself in my business affairs,’ he cut in coolly.

Well, that she could believe after the way Don Alfonso reacted when she told him she intended to work. ‘I’m not sure—’

‘You’re not sure?’ Ramon said incredulously. ‘I thought you would be as keen as I am to discuss the future of finca Fuego Montoya.’

Annalisa’s heart-rate steadied fractionally. In the course of her work she dealt with just as many men as women. The fact that Ramon proposed to open negotiations over dinner was purely a convenience for both of them. He knew how busy she was at the finca, and there was no reason to suppose his working day was any less demanding.

‘I need an answer,’ he reminded her sharply. ‘Or if you prefer we can leave it to our lawyers to draw up an agreement.’

He knew she would never agree to that. She was already far too committed to the finca. ‘No, I prefer to handle this myself.’

His eyebrow quirked expressively. ‘As you wish.’

His scrutiny made her uncomfortable at the best of times. Right now his flagrantly male presence shrank the room around them, giving her nowhere to look but straight up into his disturbingly lambent gaze.

She had to say something. Refusing his offer would make her look weak—hardly the best opening gambit. She held his gaze for a few moments, then agreed coolly, ‘Before we involve our respective legal teams there’s no harm in laying our cards on the table.’

‘I couldn’t agree more,’ he said. ‘We can do that over dinner, and once we come to an understanding we can instruct our lawyers.’

Annalisa’s smile grew more confident. Now he was talking her language. Though whether her work as a newly qualified solicitor equipped her to do battle with Ramon Perez remained to be seen—even with all of Don Alfonso’s years of experience to back her up. But, still, it would be better to have some idea of what she was up against. ‘Dinner will be fine,’ she said firmly.

‘Good,’ he said with a formal nod as he turned for the door. ‘I’ll pick you up around nine.’

‘I’ll look forward to it.’

She waited until the throaty roar of Ramon’s sports car had died away before racing upstairs to change. There wasn’t much point in entering discussions if she didn’t have a clue how to make the best use of his water. And she had no intention of looking foolish. If only she hadn’t been so busy making the finca attractive to prospective purchasers she might have paid more attention to the mechanics of fruit production. But what had started out as a short trip to lay the ghost of her Spanish father, sell his estates and return to England with enough money to set up her own legal practice, had suddenly mushroomed into something quite different. And now she had committed herself to the revival of the finca, she wasn’t about to back down.

Plucking some clean clothes out of her wardrobe, she shrugged them on and hurried out. Chances were the same people who’d used to work at the finca still lived in the village. She would seek them out and ask for advice.

Standing beneath the creaking hand-painted sign of the local bodega, Annalisa groaned. The owner, Juan, spoke a crazy form of Spanglish, but somehow they managed to communicate. She had gone straight to him, knowing he was a mine of information. But now… She blew some strands of hair off her face as she pulled away from the wall. Her head was bursting with facts. Whether she would be able to marshal them in time for her meeting with Señor Perez…

‘Pigs,’ she murmured fiercely, distractedly, as she marched off down the narrow pavement. That was one thing Juan had been adamant about. Pigs snuffled up the fallen fruit and kept the ground clean once it had all been cleared and weeded.

She stopped outside the bakery, not really seeing the rows of delicious pastries and fat crusty loaves, her mind full of Juan’s insistence that she clear out every single weed. She could have repeated his mantra by heart: weeds were the enemy; weeds drank all the water. And water… Annalisa’s mouth tipped down at the corners as she remembered what else he had said. ‘Feuds could last for generations where the precious agua was concerned.’

Didn’t she know it! she thought with a sigh, seeking sanctuary in the bakery.

‘Señorita?’

The vibrant woman behind the counter was the best possible advertisement for her fragrant assortment of freshly baked wares. Thrumming with vitality, she carried her weight lightly, and a dazzling flash of strong white teeth underscored the glow of genuine welcome in her attractive nut-brown eyes.

‘I don’t suppose…no,’ Annalisa said, shaking her head as if to shake some sense back into it. The smiling shopkeeper probably wouldn’t even understand her haphazard mix of Spanish and English, let alone know where she could lay her hands on some pigs.

‘How can I help you, señorita? What about this?’

Annalisa’s eyes cleared as she looked at the generous slice of moist chocolate cake the woman was holding out for her inspection. Tearing her gaze away from the delicious-looking treat, she exclaimed happily, ‘You speak English!’

‘Many years ago I worked in a household where English was spoken,’ the woman agreed cheerfully. Then, taking another glance at Annalisa, she placed the cake on her scales. ‘I recommend this when life gets on top of you. One bite and—’ She smacked her lips together and shut her eyes in sublime concentration.

It took Annalisa about two seconds to decide that a few moments of bliss couldn’t hurt. ‘I’m sure you’re right,’ she said reaching for her purse. ‘I’m Annalisa Wilson, by the way. I moved into the finca Fuego Montoya—’

‘And I am Maria Teresa Gonzalez,’ the cheerful assistant said placing the succulent portion of cake into a candyfloss-pink box. ‘If you need anything else, señorita,’ she insisted, deftly securing the container with a length of silver ribbon, ‘please don’t wait until you are worried. Come straight to me.’

‘Well, as it happens…’