The Acostas Box Set

‘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.

‘Welcome to Palacio Acosta,’ Diego said. ‘Or as some have dubbed it,’ he added with a cynical curve of his lips, ‘Palacio Too-antiquated-for-words.’

‘Well, I think it’s lovely!’ Maxie exclaimed, wondering who on earth could have said such a thing. The thought that it might have been one of Diego’s ex-girlfriends made the hair stand up on the back of her neck. Not that it was any of her business.

‘May I introduce our wonderful housekeeper, Maria?’ Diego said politely, standing back at the top of the steps so the two women could meet.

‘I’m very pleased to meet you—’ The words were barely out of Maxie’s mouth when Maria gathered her close for a bear hug. If Maria worked for a monster she was certainly resilient, Maxie reflected when the housekeeper finally released her.

‘I’m going to check the horses,’ Diego said, swinging away. ‘Maria will show you where everything is.’

‘Thank you. And thank you for collecting me at the dock.’ She hadn’t expected him to stick around, but it would have been nice. Nice? It would have been challenging, electrifying, and all the other words associated with extreme sport. ‘See you later.’

Business came first, and bearing in mind Diego’s warnings about the terrain she thought it wise to arrange an agenda with him so they could discuss safety issues further.

Turning, he gave her a look that made Maxie wonder if she had sounded desperate. ‘I imagine our paths will cross again as we’re living in the same house,’ he observed coolly.

‘Whenever suits you.’ She didn’t need to turn her back to hide her red cheeks. He’d already gone. Unaccountably she felt the loss of him already, Maxie realised as Diego limped away.

* * *

The moment he was out of earshot, he rang his brother. ‘What the hell are you trying to do to me, Ruiz?’ Diego demanded furiously, grimacing as he leaned back against a fence post to ease the pressure on his leg.

‘If I knew what you were talking about,’ Ruiz replied, ‘maybe I could help. Your temper certainly hasn’t improved,’ he observed. ‘My advice to you is to get back on the polo circuit as fast as you can.’

‘Don’t you think I want to?’ Diego roared over the crackling line to Argentina, where Ruiz was currently playing the game they both loved, with Holly cheering him on from the sidelines. Shouldn’t Holly be here to deal with her pain-in-the-ass wedding planner? ‘Don’t you think I’m obsessed with getting back into the game?’ he flashed on the heels of this thought.

‘I’ve never heard you so angry before,’ Ruiz commented laconically.

‘We might be brothers, Ruiz, but there are limits to what I’m prepared to do for you. I came here to recover in private—not to play host to some confetti addict.’ He stopped at the sound of a muffled protest, and then sighed as his soon to be sister-in-law, the well-named Holly Valiant, seized the phone from his recently reformed playboy brother.

‘You won’t have to do a thing, Diego,’ Holly promised him breathlessly from the other side of the world. ‘Maxie is the most fantastic wedding planner. She will do everything. You have met her?’ Holly prompted when he said nothing. ‘She has arrived, hasn’t she?’ Holly asked with growing concern.

‘She’s here,’ he confirmed flatly.

‘Brilliant,’ Holly enthused, completely missing the warning note in his voice. ‘There’s nowhere else on earth I would rather be married than Isla del Fuego.’

‘You will have to excuse me, Holly,’ he broke in politely. ‘I have things to do. We can talk about your wedding some other time.’

‘Oh…’ All the air left her sails. ‘Of course,’ she said quickly. ‘I imagine you’re busy with the horses.’

Another long silence followed, and he could imagine Holly wondering if she’d said the wrong thing again. ‘Yes, I’m busy with the horses,’ he confirmed, to put her out of her misery. His attention switched to the ponies in the paddock, and to the one in particular that had fallen on top of him during the match. Months had passed since then, and the horse looked well and was moving easily—which was more than could be said for his owner, Diego reflected grimly.

‘Is there something wrong?’ Holly asked, forcing him to refocus on the call.

‘Not really… There is one thing. The name of your wedding planner.’

‘Maxie Parrish?’ Holly supplied with her usual enthusiasm. ‘She’s great, isn’t she?’

‘Could you put my brother on the phone?’ he said, keeping his voice carefully neutral.

‘Of course…’

He could hear the strand of anxiety in Holly’s tone, and then she covered the handset and said something to his brother.

‘Diego?’ Ruiz drawled, in a voice that suggested there were plenty of things he would rather be doing than talking to his brother.

‘Parrish?’ Diego drove on. ‘Holly’s wedding planner is called Maxie Parrish.’

‘So?’ Ruiz queried.

‘Parrish,’ he repeated.

‘Dream Events is the name of the company, isn’t it?’ Ruiz remarked vaguely, clearly far more interested in his bride-to-be than anything else. ‘Her references checked out. Even I was impressed. There must be thousands of girls with the surname Parrish, Diego. And, anyway, you should be over that.’

Maybe he should be, but he wasn’t.

‘It can’t be the same family,’ Ruiz said confidently.

‘And you know this for a fact?’

But Holly had seized the phone again. ‘Have I done something wrong?’ she said. ‘Please tell me if I’ve done something wrong, Diego.’

‘You have done nothing wrong,’ he soothed.

Where could he begin? And why rake up the past and ruin Holly’s romantic moment? She wasn’t to blame for a tragedy Diego had set in motion all those years ago.

‘Would it be better if we rang you some other time?’ Holly was asking with growing concern.

‘No,’ he said, making a conscious effort to gentle his tone. ‘Tell me about the plans you’d like for your wedding, Holly.’

He felt bad when he realised all the fizz had left her voice, but she soon recovered, and as Holly started telling him her exciting news he drifted back to a black time in his life when he had taken one too many risks with tragic consequences. His time out now, with his injury from the polo field, could only be a relief for his opponents—for when Diego played he remembered what he’d done, and when he remembered he cared for nothing. Which made him a danger not only to himself but to everyone around him.

‘You should get back to the game,’ Holly told him softly, as if she could read some of these thoughts. ‘You’re needed, Diego. Your brothers need you. The team isn’t the same without you.’

He hummed. ‘I’m trying, Holly.’

‘I know you’re training every day. Things will get easier, Diego—trust me. And if it’s my wedding that’s bothering you—’

‘There are other places you could get married,’ he pointed out as Maxie’s face flashed into his mind.

‘But none as beautiful as Isla del Fuego,’ Holly argued.

He gazed in silence across the paddock towards the sea, seeing the view as if through Maxie’s camera lens. It was a scene of almost theatrical grandeur, he conceded. The pewter sea, in perfect accord with his mood, thundered against the black lava cliffs, casting diamond spray into the air. And when the sun shone…

‘Are you still there, Diego?’ his brother demanded, having taken the phone from Holly.

‘I’m still here,’ he confirmed. In body that was true, but his mind had strayed back to the past.

‘How many people in the world have the surname Parrish?’ his brother demanded. ‘I know that’s what’s worrying you. Come on, Diego,’ Ruiz insisted impatiently. ‘You’re the numbers guy in the family. You should know.’

This was true, and was thanks mainly to their elder brother Nacho, whose foresight and love had saved Diego from the blackest despair. Back in his arrogant youth Diego had lost money in a deal gone unimaginably bad, and it was Nacho who had told him that if Diego wanted to handle money he should learn how. Diego had gone on to train as an accountant, and now controlled all the family finances.

‘Are you still there, Diego?’ Ruiz pressed.

‘I’m still here,’ he confirmed.

‘You’re far too tense,’ Ruiz commented dryly. ‘And I think we both know the reason for that. According to Holly, Maxie Parrish is a good-looking woman, and you are on the island together—practically alone. Have you lost your edge, Diego?’

He stared down at the receiver as if this was news to him, and then said, ‘Maybe I’m not that interested?’

‘And maybe you’re kidding yourself!’

‘And maybe you’re in danger of sharing the same rose-tinted spectacles as your bride.’

‘Leave Holly out of this,’ Ruiz warned.

‘All I need is a sound leg, a good mount and a chance to get back to the game I love,’ he thundered.

‘We’ll talk again when you’ve come to your senses,’ Ruiz said, leaving him staring in frustration at the phone.

* * *

‘What a wonderful home!’ Maxie exclaimed, turning full circle to soak up the atmosphere in the elegant and welcoming hallway as Maria bustled round with pride.

‘This house has been in the Acosta family for generations,’ Maria explained.

‘What a marvellous heritage,’ Maxie said, thinking back to her own, very different family home. The father who had been so unkind to her mother when she was young had been broken by her mother’s illness. It had been a struggle for him to keep up with all the extras her mother had needed, so, understandably, home comforts had been low on his list. When a hole had appeared in the sofa Maxie had thrown a rug over it, and on one famous occasion she had deconstructed a carpet sample book to patch the stairs. ‘My mother would have loved this,’ she said wistfully, turning slowly to take everything in. She hardly realised she’d been speaking out loud until she felt Maria’s compassionate touch on her arm.

‘Come,’ Maria insisted, shepherding her towards a magnificent mahogany staircase.

There was no patching here. An impeccable runner in mellow earth tones climbed the polished stairs and was held in place by gleaming brass stair rods. The effect was both impressive and cosy.

It was too late to help her mother now, or to wish that her parents’ lives could have been easier, but at least her work allowed her to earn enough to make her father’s last years comfortable.

‘Please,’ Maria encouraged, pointing to Maxie’s camera.

The Acosta home was so much more than a sum of its parts, Maxie realised as she looked at everything through her lens. The rugs were a little faded, and had been worn thin by the passage of many feet, but they were all the more attractive for that. Everything was a little rough around the edges, she noticed now, but that only added to the ambience of a much-loved home. It was a warm, happy home, and she could feel the influence of previous generations all around her.

‘I love this house!’ she exclaimed impulsively. She loved the grand piano sitting discreetly beneath the sweeping staircase, with a stack of music to one side as if the pianist had just stepped out for a moment. She loved the family photographs clustered on top of it, and the scent of beeswax in the air. ‘There couldn’t be a better setting for a family wedding,’ she said to Maria.

‘Perfecto,’ Maria agreed, nodding and smiling as if she and Maxie were as one.

‘I’m going to call Holly right away and confirm her choice of venue,’ Maxie enthused, remembering that first there was another call she had to make…

* * *

Her first evening with Diego loomed. Oh, good, Maxie thought wryly, wondering how that would turn out as she brushed her waist-length hair for the umpteenth time. Blue-black and gleaming now she’d washed the salt out of it, her hair lifted and floated around her shoulders in most un-Maxie-like abandon. She usually tied it back for business. She had intended to tie it back tonight, but for some reason she wanted Diego to see her looking relaxed, for him to know that he didn’t scare her.

Though goodness knows what they’d talk about, Maxie mused as she studied her perplexed reflection in the mirror. What she knew about polo could be safely inscribed on the top of a pin, while Diego was hardly the typical wedding cake fanatic. But this was work, and she’d get on with it. Replacing the silver-backed hairbrush on top of the lovingly polished French antique dressing table, she stood and frowned, remembering the news from the nursing home hadn’t been good. Every day she hoped for improvement, knowing deep down it would never come.

She must remain focused on her work, Maxie reflected, firming her jaw. Work kept her grounded. Work paid the bills. Work kept her father safe.