Kept By The Spanish Billionaire

‘That’s very rude.’ Amy withdrew her hand and pulled herself up so that she could fix him with a gimlet eye.

‘What’s very rude? You know what? I’m not really all that interested anyway.’ Outside, in the balmy air, a very gentle breeze lifted the breathtakingly blonde curls and made them dance.

‘I don’t care whether you’re interested or not! I’m going to tell you anyway! It’s rude to look at someone as though they’ve got a contagious disease when they’re doing nothing more than attempting to introduce themselves! If you don’t want to tell me your name, then that’s fine! It’s no skin off my nose! It’s not as though I’m—’

‘Rafael.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Rafael. My name is Rafael Vives.’ He held out his hand and as Amy took it she felt a strange quiver of awareness dart its way through her body like a sudden, unexpected jolt of electricity, then the feeling was gone.

‘I’m Amy.’ As quickly as her temper had surfaced, it was gone. Anger was something she had never been able to hold onto for very long. ‘Rafael…unusual name…Is it…what? Italian?’

‘Spanish,’ Rafael said abruptly. ‘Will you be able to find your way back to the house?’

‘Oh, yes? How did a Spanish gardener come to be working in America?’ She fished into a pocket, pulled out an elastic band and expertly tied her hair back into a loose pony tail.

‘Buy yourself a potted history guide book, speed read it and you’ll discover how we Spaniards managed to find our way over here. Now off you go.’

‘You’re very arrogant, aren’t you?’

‘Yes. Yes, I am, and now that we’ve cleared that up you can be on your way.’

To his relief she took the hint and for a few seconds he watched her head off, pause, glance around her, head off, but this time in a different direction. Her antics would have been amusing had he not known that sooner or later he would have to point her in the right direction. The grounds to the house were extensive and the verdant lawns were interspersed with grassy dunes and dense trees. There was even a tiered pond with a waterfall set in richly colourful gardens. When you knew the property, you knew easily how to find your way around, but to the uninitiated it could be bewildering, especially in the dark. And the guest cottage, which had been indeed built to house the head of the domestic staff when the house had been fully utilised, was not easy to find.

With a deeply impatient sigh, Rafael fetched the key, slammed the door behind him and caught up with her as she veered off on her fourth aborted attempt to locate the right way back.

He circled his hand around her arm and ushered her in the opposite direction.

‘Good God, woman! Where’s your sense of direction?’

‘I would have found my way eventually! And do you mind letting me go? You’re not a policeman and I’m not under arrest!’

‘I’m just making sure that I get you off my property!’

‘Your property? That’s a bit rich considering you’re only the gardener! I know the gardens are unusually big so you must be an unusually important gardener, but hey! You’re just still a gardener!’

‘Do you ever shut up?’ Rafael muttered under his breath.

‘Are you ever polite?’ He still had his hand wrapped around her arm like a steel clamp and Amy had given up on trying to shake him off. ‘It’s not my fault these grounds are so big! Well, actually, it is kind of my fault. I suppose I could have stayed put at the house with everyone else.’

‘Yes. That you could have done. Why didn’t you?’ She was very slight. Her arm felt fragile in his hand. He imagined that if he were to ever pick her up, she wouldn’t weigh a thing. He released her and shoved his hands in his pockets.

‘I was tired.’ She shrugged. ‘Normally I’m up for any party but I just fancied a little bit of time on my own.’

‘There was a party going on when you left?’ Rafael’s ears pricked up. ‘What kind of party?’

‘Oh, the usual. Loud music. People passing out in the flower beds. Skinny-dipping in the pool.’

Rafael spun her around to face him. ‘You’re kidding, aren’t you? I would have heard if there was loud music. It’s a still night.’

Amy looked up at him in astonishment and then burst out laughing. ‘Of course there was no party, Mr Gardener! I just meant that, after the “getting to know you” over the cocktails, I decided that a little walk in the garden might wake me up! It was all perfectly civilised. The flower beds are all still intact, in case that was what you were worried about.’

‘Of course I wasn’t worried about the damned flower beds!’

‘Then you don’t take your job as seriously as you should!’ Amy chided teasingly. ‘Anyway, why on earth should you care whether James has a party up at the house or not? It’s not really your business, is it?’

‘If you peer into the distance you can see the lights of the house. Follow them.’

‘You mean you won’t do the gentlemanly thing and walk me to the front door? And before you start glowering, it was just a joke. Do you ever get lonely?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Do you ever get lonely? You know…stuck up there on your own from dawn to dusk…’

‘What makes you think that I’m stuck there on my own?’ Rafael couldn’t resist asking. Even without benefit of light, he could see the embarrassed surprise on her face. ‘Don’t you think that there’s a woman who wouldn’t mind helping while away the occasional lonely night?’ he drawled.

Amy could feel hot colour flood her cheeks as she struggled to find a suitably composed reply. Eventually she stammered, clearing her throat, ‘Well, you just seemed to overreact to the idea of a party, so I thought that maybe…perhaps you…’

‘Perhaps I was a complete bore who enjoyed nothing more than pruning the rose bushes while pouring scorn on other people’s good times?’

‘No, of course not!’

‘I know how to enjoy myself, little Amy.’

The way he said that sent shivers running up and down her spine. From somewhere, she managed to dredge up the image of James, smiling, blond-haired James with his teasing blue eyes and ready grin, and just about managed to ward off the more disturbing one of Rafael the arrogant gardener in bed with a woman who wanted to help him while away a lonely night.

‘I just don’t happen to be a party animal. Drinking myself into a stupor has never held much appeal.’

Rescued from her sudden, acute embarrassment and over-active imagination, Amy was happy to be diverted back to her healthy opinion of him as an arrogant bore.

‘No, I could tell.’ His body language was letting her know in no uncertain terms that he couldn’t particularly care less what she thought of him, but Amy couldn’t seem to let it go. Arrogant bore or not, there was something curiously fascinating about him. ‘You’ve probably never been to a really good party’ she said, consolingly. ‘It’s not all about drinking yourself into a stupor. It’s about good company and good music and lots of dancing.’

She grinned at him, amused at his expression of distaste. ‘Which bit of that do you find off-putting?’

‘The bit that reeks of excess,’ Rafael told her coolly.

‘Which is where you’re in danger of going unless you clear off. I’m sure, as the party animal that you are, you don’t set much store on privacy, but I do and I would appreciate it if you respected that and stayed away from my property. Think you can understand that?’

Amy felt sudden tears of hurt prick the backs of her eyes and she nodded. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said in a small voice, which made him feel like a monster.

Rafael gave her a curt nod and turned away. It was bad enough having to take time out when there were a million things that urgently needed doing without finding his precious time further usurped by a trail of unwanted explorers making the most of their bonus week off.

When he eventually turned around to make sure that she was walking in the right direction, she had disappeared.

CHAPTER TWO

THINGS had been laid on.

Amy woke early the following morning, drifted downstairs and discovered, to her surprise considering James’s casual personality, that their days had been mapped out and planned with military efficiency.

Several others were likewise up and in the dining room, which had been laid out for breakfast buffet style.

On one wall was a large notice board indicating the activities in store for them that day, should they wish to avail themselves of it.

From behind her, Claire, her closest friend at the house, tapped her on the shoulder and giggled something about how the other half lived and that they should tuck into breakfast because not having to prepare it themselves was a luxury that wouldn’t rear its head again in a hurry.

‘Darn right!’ Amy laughed back, easily slipping into the fun-loving girl her friends all knew and appreciated. It wasn’t long before she had joined some of the others, happily allowing herself to be swept up in the excitement of planning which events they were going to try out later on.

Of course, there was always the option of staying put, which some of them intended to do, but there would also be an opportunity to go kayaking and canoeing. For the lazier of them, fishing was an option, as well as a chance to explore some of the beaches, which would involve picnics and swimming.

Amy wondered which, if any, James would be going to. He was nowhere to be seen, but when he did appear she intended to get herself noticed in a way she had yet to do.

Thus far, she had always been the very good caterer at work, always decked out in her boring white outfit and caterer’s hat. It was the least sexy outfit possible to don. Not that Amy considered herself to be the centrefold of a magazine, but she had a friendly personality and many people had told her that she was quite cute.

Well, cute could work. She had tied her hair back into two braids that reached just past her shoulders, a touch-and-go hairstyle as far as attracting the opposite sex went but very practical in hot weather. Her blue and white top was jaunty and her jeans were, she thought, just the right side of trendy. Very skinny-fitting and just right with the flat, beaded silver shoes that she could kick off if need be or walk a hundred miles if she had to.

‘Which tour do you think he’s going to be on?’ she whispered to Claire, as soon as they had sat down in front of plates that were groaning with a ridiculous amount of food. ‘I’ve dressed the part.’ She thought, briefly and unexpectedly, of the arrogant gardener she had bumped into the previous night. She imagined he would give her one of those ice-cold looks were he to see her in her get-up. For a second she was tempted to let Claire into the little secret, but she held her tongue, remembering the way he had told her to keep his presence on the ground to herself.

‘What part?’ Claire grinned. She was as plump and dark as Amy was fair and slender, but they had hit it off the minute they had met two years previously and were still the best of friends.

‘The part that’s not covered up in a white uniform with neat white plimsolls and a hairnet. A hairnet! Do you think he’ll notice me?’

‘He always notices you,’ Claire said, prompted into automatic support.

‘Yes, well. He chats and laughs but he does that with everyone!’ She skewered a piece of fresh pineapple on her fork, inspected it and popped it into her mouth. ‘I wonder which exciting little tour he’ll be on.’

Claire watched her friend drift off into some pleasant daydream land and bit back the instinct to protect her from hurt by telling her how she really felt—that James liked her well enough but that was as far as it went. She was pretty sure that he really would never actually have a relationship with someone who worked for him anyway, because wouldn’t that be against some company law? But even if he could have, he joked with her the way a guy joked with a woman he thought of as a mate. She should know. That had been her fate for long enough!

‘Just enjoy yourself, Ames, and forget about James. He’ll be at the barbecue tonight anyway!’

And as it turned out the tight-fitting jeans and the jaunty top had been in vain. James had gone off fishing for the day, bonding with some of the junior lads in the marketing department. The outfit, furthermore, had been a serious impediment when it came to kayaking and by the time four o’clock rolled round and they were all trooping wearily back to the house Amy was more than a little disconsolate.

What was she doing? She was twenty-four years old and was committing the unforgivable sin of throwing herself at someone with the desperation of an ageing spinster under threat of being left on the shelf! It was ridiculous. She was ridiculous!

She almost believed it, almost figured that she had got her emotions under control, when she spotted him later that night, standing outside in the garden, drink in one hand, laughing with a little group of people around him, and then her heart fluttered a bit and she drew in her breath and headed in his direction.

The barbecue was kicking off in jolly style. Wine was being served and a selection of exquisite canapés, just substantial enough to take the edge off the alcohol before food, was brought out.

James spotted her weaving her way in his direction and for a second or two he hesitated, then there he was, breaking away from the group and coming towards her.

Actually, Amy could scarcely believe her eyes. In fact, she turned around to see if there was anyone behind her towards whom he could be heading.

When she looked back round he was right there, in front of her, his blond hair rumpled, his whole look adorably preppie. He gave her a crooked smile and she smiled back happily.

‘I didn’t recognise you.’ He held her hand, stepped back and made her do an impromptu twirl, then he gave a long, low wolf-whistle.

‘Is that a good thing or a bad thing?’ Amy said, cheeks pink. She couldn’t quite make her voice sound husky, but she gave him the best flirty look at her disposal, all fluttering eyelashes and coy smile.

‘A very good thing!’ He laughed. ‘The skirt suits you. In fact, your legs suit you. Very nice legs.’

‘Hmm. All two of them!’ She felt rather pleased now that she had made the effort to wear the red and black floaty skirt she had brought over, even though the barbecue was being held in the garden so dressing up wasn’t de rigueur. The strappy red top made her feel wonderfully feminine.

‘Tell me what you did today,’ he said, eyes on her as he polished off his drink and signalled to a waiter for a refill without actually turning around.

Amy told him, skipping out certain unfortunate details, such as nearly tipping over their kayak in an attempt to swap places with Justin and getting her jeans soaked to the thighs because she should have worn shorts like everyone else, not to mention the little fact that her glorious bead shoes were now drying on her window ledge and would probably never be the same again. He seemed amused enough at her rendition of the day’s events.

The one thing she omitted to tell him was about her encounter with his gardener. Why spoil the moment? From feeling a little downbeat, she had bounced right back to her cheerful self, basking in the once-in-a-lifetime experience of being the centre of James’s attention.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Claire grinning like a hyena, and Amy made sure to angle her body away from her friend. She might be crazy about James, but she would die a thousand deaths if he ever discovered that, and Claire with her antics was hardly being the soul of subtle discretion.

But already she could sense that James was ready to move on, to circulate, and she looked wistfully at his departing back as he reached for another glass of wine and headed off, always solicitous when it came to involving each and every one of his guests.

For a few seconds, it dawned on her that those few moments of snatched time during which he had complimented her, actually looked at her, really amounted to not very much, but she quickly brushed aside that pessimistic train of thought.

‘I think,’ she told Claire later, when food had been eaten and the assembled crowd had moved on to the sort of abandoned dancing that only alcohol could induce, ‘that I’m making headway.’

‘Oh, I don’t know, Ames…’ James seemed to have disappeared from the scene, although it was hard to tell because it was dark and there were so many people all over the place.

‘He asked me what I thought of the food.’

‘What did you say?’

‘Told him it wasn’t a patch on mine.’

‘You never!’

‘Yup.’

‘Bad move. Maybe he’ll sack his caterers here and rope you in to do the cooking.’

They giggled, enjoying the novelty of being far from familiar shores in a setting they would never again experience.

Amy drained her glass of wine and decided that she would try and locate the errant James.

It had gone eleven and the party, subdued considered the amount of alcohol on offer, was still going strong. No one, in fact, had gone to bed yet as far as she could see, and Amy wasn’t going to be the first. The American crowd, who were either staying at a local hotel or else returning to their own homes, would be the first to go. She imagined that, with the crowd diminished, she might yet find another opportunity to chat to James, to let him see her in a different light. Hopefully not a sozzled light. However much Amy enjoyed having a good time, she knew when to stop drinking. Despite, and she thought once again of the gardener and his high-handed, self-righteous, priggish judgements, what certain people might think.

But still…It was fun mingling and fun being asked to dance, and if her glass continued to be topped up despite her feeble attempts at shaking her head whenever one of the waiters poled along, then why shouldn’t she get into the spirit of things?

Besides, as the evening wore on the wine was doing a very good job of keeping her maudlin thoughts at bay. Having a crush on the boss was the oldest, saddest story in the book. If her brothers ever found out, she didn’t know which of the three of them would die laughing first, and she didn’t think her sisters would be too full of tea and sympathy either. She was a pretty outgoing sort and had had her fair share of boyfriends yet here she was, in the most impossibly stunning location in the world, surrounded by lots of lively people roughly her own age, and what was she doing? Ferreting around to see if she could spot a man who didn’t give her the time of day.

When she thought like that, her spirits dipped once more. Yet again, her outfit was going to be wasted. She had visions of thousands of outfits being bought and wasted in her attempts to steal James’s attention.

On that thought, she set down her wineglass and drifted away from the party and the house. Away from the crowds, the glaring realisation that she wasn’t having the good time she should have been hit her and Amy began to feel a little more upbeat. In a minute she knew that her instinct to make the best out of any situation would surface and she would be fine. She would sit a while and let Nature and her naturally buoyant personality take their course.

She quietly hived off towards the expertly landscaped wooded area, moving steadily away from the noise of the party.

It was late but not particularly cool and the fresh air was doing wonders for her fuzzy head. Indeed, her spirits were on the up when she was aware of movement in a little clearing in the trees. Goodness only knew how they had managed to do it, but the copse was cleverly interspersed with small benches that had been fashioned roughly out of gnarled tree trunks, so that at first glance they looked like part of the natural scenery. Amy went into immediate stealthy mode and didn’t even bother to try and fight her curiosity.

She peered, eventually making out who the two people on the bench were. It was dark, but not completely. Moonlight cast a dull, ephemeral light and as the couple moved apart for a few seconds she saw them clearly. The woman she didn’t recognise. Long, poker-straight hair, very fair skin and a body that was in a state of semi undress.

The man…well, the man…

She felt a tide of nausea rise up her throat and she took a couple of steps backwards, standing perfectly still when a twig snapped under her foot, but the couple were too engrossed in one another to hear the snapping of any twig. In fact, they would probably have been deaf to an approaching intercity train. When he pulled the woman so that she could straddle him, Amy fled.

Her heart was pounding. She tried hard to be quiet, but after five minutes the need to get as far away from the sight of James wrapped around a woman was so great that she stopped giving a damn how much noise she made.

She hit some part of the gardens but she wasn’t sure which part because she could no longer see the house, nor could she hear the strains of the music.

She was sharing a bedroom with Claire, who had turned in a while before. Who was going to miss her?

Amy willed herself to stop running and to get her breathing under control. Okay, here were the facts. The man she was mad about was involved with someone else. She was also lost. The first she would have to put on hold until she could cry about it later. The second she would have to sort out right away or else risk spending the night somewhere in the acres of estate with only her thoughts for company.

With typical pluckiness, Amy drew in a deep breath and did what every good Girl Guide book would suggest at a time like this. She looked for a tall tree. Not too hard. Actually, they all looked pretty tall. Enormous, in fact, to someone pretty short, but, drawing in a deep breath, she kicked off her useless strappy sandals, and yet again wished she were decked out in something more suitable—talk about getting her dress code all wrong—and began to climb.

She got high enough to panic but not nearly high enough to see where the house was, at which point she threw caution to the winds and began yelling her head off.

When she next got up the courage to look down, it was to see the unmistakable shape of the gardener staring up at her. Of course, it would be the gardener.

‘I’m stuck!’

‘Why are you up a tree?’ Rafael felt his lips twitch. That blonde tangle of hair announced its owner with a glaring lack of subtlety.

‘Never mind that! You need to get me down!’

‘Sorry, but I don’t hear you using that special little word.’

‘Now’s not the time for games!’

‘Always time to be polite.’

‘You’re a fine one to talk,’ Amy yelled down, ‘considering your rudeness the last time we met!’ She felt her grip on the tree branch get precariously unsteady and ordered him to go and fetch a ladder instantly! Please!

‘There’s no ladder at the cottage. Hang on and I’ll get you down!’

Amy closed her eyes. She was aware of him climbing up the tree, skilfully manoeuvring the trunk and the branches. She had never felt more of an idiot in her life. Her skirt was everywhere. Floaty was fine at a party but not so fine when it came to shinning up a tree and having to be ignominiously fetched down like a stray cat.

And Lord only knew what it was doing as he coaxed and aided her down, holding onto her when necessary until he could lever her gently to the ground, then he jumped down and landed softly next to her.

‘Thank you.’ Amy dusted down her skirt and avoided looking at him.

‘So. Care to tell me what you were doing up a tree at…’ he looked at his watch ‘…twelve thirty in the morning?’

‘What were you doing awake?’

‘I was up plotting my next attack on the bugs destroying the rose bushes. What do you think? I heard someone screaming like a banshee and thought that I’d better investigate.’

Rafael glanced sideways at the dishevelled figure next to him. He felt utterly bemused by her random behaviour. Like most men, he had certain preferences when it came to women, and was accustomed to certain codes of behaviour. Not even by the wildest stretch of imagination did climbing trees at midnight fit the bill. He tried to picture any one of his erudite, contained and eminently respectable girlfriends up a tree and failed.