The Argentinian's Solace Read online

  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.

  Walking across the faded Aubusson rug to the beautiful old armoire, she picked out one of her ‘all occasions’ dresses. In pale cream silk it was equally suitable for an up-town business meeting or supper with friends. It was the dress she chose when she didn’t want to look as if she was trying too hard. She teamed it with a pair of discreet nude-coloured sandals, then applied some shadow to her eyes, and some lipgloss. Now she was ready to face the tiger in his lair.

  It was hard to remain tense in such a beautiful setting, Maxie realised as she walked across the room. Mellow evening light was streaming through the French doors dressed with filmy white muslin, while the open windows brought the scent of the beautifully tended gardens into the room. The bedroom was incredibly feminine, with several flower arrangements she had no doubt Maria had arranged, while a grand old four-poster bed took centre stage. Draped with floating ivory fabric, it had a beautiful hand-stitched quilt that picked up all the various pastel shades. She would never choose to decorate a room so prettily herself, but she loved it so much it made her wonder if she’d grown up practical because she’d had to be, or if practical was her nature. The only certainty was that tonight she was having supper with an unpredictable man, Maxie concluded. And he was probably counting down the seconds until she left.

  ‘Diego!’ It took her a moment to gather herself when she found him standing outside her room. ‘Are you waiting for me?’

  He was leaning against the wall, and the look he gave her suggested Maxie was in serious danger of flattering herself. ‘I was on my way down to supper,’ he said, giving her a lazy once-over. ‘I presume that’s where you’re heading too?’

  She was burning from his scrutiny while he looked amazing. How was it that some people only had to throw on a pair of jeans and any old top to look good? She could smell the soap from his shower, and his thick black hair was still a little damp and curling wildly round his swarthy face, catching on his stubble. But when he straightened up and she saw the cane propped a
gainst the wall she knew he had probably stopped outside her room because his leg was hurting him, and as they walked towards the head of the stairs she tried to measure her step to his without making it seem too obvious. His leg seemed stiffer than ever tonight, and she wondered if the damp weather had affected it. Hanging back, she could see how heavily he was relying on his cane.

  He was glad Maxie was behind him and couldn’t see the surprise on his face. Discovering the young tomboy transformed into a poised and confident woman had been a revelation to him. But why was he surprised? She was a successful businesswoman. He just hadn’t had it thrust in his face before. She looked stunning in the simple dress, and he could imagine her walking into a meeting and getting any terms she wanted out of her suppliers—an image that irritated him when he thought of the men she would meet in the course of her work. Perhaps Ruiz was right about the route to rehabilitation and relaxation.

  Right on cue the muscles in his leg stabbed a warning that he was more likely to grind his jaw in pain than soften his lips to seduce Maxie.

  ‘I love your house,’ she commented as they walked downstairs.

  ‘It isn’t strictly mine,’ he said, putting her straight. ‘The family shares it.’

  ‘Don’t you think that’s why it’s so lovely?’ she said, pausing to examine an old oil painting of some disreputable-looking ancestor.

  The Acosta men hadn’t changed that much, he reflected, then, realising Maxie was waiting for him, wondered if she was taking it slowly on purpose—making allowances for him?

  ‘I think it’s a real family home,’ she said, oblivious to his blackening mood.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ he said, waiting for her to go first before he tackled the last flight of stairs.

  ‘Don’t you love this hallway?’ she said, trailing her slender fingers down the mahogany banister as she reached the hall ahead of him.

  He concentrated on her naked shoulders and the cascade of silky black hair tumbling in luxuriant waves to her waist. This led him on the shortest of journeys to the neat curve of her buttocks, clearly visible beneath the clinging fabric of her dress.

  ‘Well, I think it’s perfect!’ she said, turning to look at him.

  ‘I can’t see much wrong with it,’ he agreed.

  ‘How wonderful to have holidayed here when you were children. I love visiting houses like this.’

  The last girl he had brought to the palacio had asked for the ‘powder room’ in order to touch up her make-up. Then she’d told him she hated the house. It was so dated, she said, proceeding to give him a list of requirements for her next visit. Fortunately the sea had been calm that day. He’d shipped her out on the next boat.

  Maria was in the kitchen with an array of dishes that would have fed an army of gourmands. He ate in silence, while Maxie and Maria chatted away like old friends. Maxie handed him an agenda of things she wanted to cover, and he might have been surprised by her approach if he hadn’t seen her dressed for business as she was tonight. He accepted the paper from her, glanced at it, and got on with his meal, wondering again about the tomboy who could transform herself so convincingly into a sophisticated businesswoman in no time flat. Did she have a boyfriend—a lover? Maybe she had children? He didn’t know anything about her. Maybe she was married? That thought made him tense.

  When they had finished the meal and the dishes were being cleared away—a duty Maxie had insisted on sharing with Maria—she tossed him a cloth. ‘Wipe the table down, will you?’ she asked him casually. ‘While I load the dishwasher?’

  He stared at the cloth in his hands while Maria, clearly in shock, bustled across the room to take it from him. His grip on the cloth tightened. ‘Take the rest of the evening off,’ he told Maria. ‘You deserve it. And thank you for a delicious supper.’

  ‘Gracias, Señor …’ Maria said, backing out of the kitchen as if she never wanted to forget the sight of him holding a cleaning cloth.

  Maxie had her back turned to him as she continued clearing up. When she’d switched the dishwasher on, she straightened up and turned round. ‘Would you like to see the shots I’ve taken so far?’

  Remembering the quicker Maxie got what she’d come for, the quicker he could be alone again, he said, ‘Why not?’

  He had to admit Maxie surprised him yet again. She might be an excellent wedding planner, but her photographs were also out of the ordinary. She had shown the island in a way he’d never seen it before, highlighting aspects which transformed it from a forbidding prison into a treasure trove of possibilities. Seeing Isla del Fuego through Maxie’s eyes was a revelation to him.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ she asked when he grimaced.

  ‘No. Everything’s good.’ Except his leg, which was cramping again. ‘Your photographs are very good.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She turned to go. ‘An early night for me, I think,’ she advised him as she headed for the door.

  Animal instincts battled with his common sense, while his leg screamed in protest. ‘Buenas noches, señorita,’ he ground out as she left the room.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  SHE had had the worst night’s sleep ever. Was it wrong to want a man who looked like a pirate to behave like one? Was it crazy to lie in bed wondering what would happen if she crept to the door and left it temptingly ajar? As if she’d be so stupid. She wouldn’t have the first idea of what to do if she had done something so ridiculous and Diego had walked in. She had heard him coming upstairs and remained absolutely still as she’d listened to the water run while he took his shower. She had imagined him standing beneath the spray naked. No wonder she’d had a sleepless night.

  Leaping out of bed, she drew the curtains on a brand-new day. The sun was shining and it was hard to believe she had been greeted yesterday by stormy skies and a glowering man. Opening the window and leaning out, she dragged in the scent of blossom and grass, intensified by the refreshing rain and now the warmth of the sun. So where was Diego? She glanced round the empty gardens, guessing he’d be with his horses. She’d take a shower, make her calls, and then she’d check the agenda she’d given him. She had no time to waste on fantasies involving dangerous men sweeping sensible girls off their feet and carrying them away to make passionate love to them until they couldn’t stand.

  But she was only human, and Diego Acosta was one heck of a man.

  He had been up before dawn, after a restless night spent tossing and turning at the thought of a woman he wanted in his bed sleeping in a room just down the landing.

  So what had held him back?

  Slamming his cane against the wall with a vicious curse, he took a shower and changed into clean jeans, desert boots and the first top that came to hand. Opening his bedroom door, he found her walking down the landing towards the stairs.

  ‘Good morning, Diego,’ she called to him, oblivious to his black mood. ‘I hope you slept well?’

  ‘Maxie,’ he said briefly.

  ‘Are you coming down to breakfast?’ she asked as she ran down the stairs.

  Was he supposed to follow at a snail’s pace?

  ‘Maria has promised to make pancakes today,’ she called back to him as she hurried across the hall towards the kitchen.

  She looked so fresh-faced and innocent in her simple top, blue jeans and sneakers. ‘I’m going to check on the horses,’ he said, craving fresh air and the empty pampas.

  ‘No problems, I hope?’ she asked, pausing with her hand on the kitchen door.

  Problems? What? More than she could see as he moved stiff-legged down the stairs? ‘One of the ponies kicked my best horse last night,’ he ground out.

  ‘Oh, no!’ she exclaimed with concern. ‘I’m so sorry. No lasting harm done, I hope?’

  ‘I don’t know yet,’ he snapped, frowning. Socialising was good for recovering horses, but there was always the risk they might get hurt, and he felt responsible for what had happened. It was another black mark on the day.

  ‘Perhaps I can see your horses later?’ she suggested.


  Before he had a chance to refuse this request she had disappeared inside the kitchen. His black mood thickened when he heard her laughing with Maria. She was really making herself at home.

  Thanking Diego’s housekeeper for the delicious breakfast, Maxie reflected on the many amusing tales Maria had told her about Diego growing up. It was probably just as well he hadn’t joined them in the kitchen, or Maria almost certainly wouldn’t have opened up the way she had. Maxie had been her usual guarded self. She never talked about her childhood, and preferred to look to the future and build rather than waste time thinking about what couldn’t be changed. She had spent too many nights barricaded in a room with her mother when her father had returned home drunk after yet another failed business deal to want to look back. Her own relationships with men had scarcely fared any better. She seemed to have the knack of finding younger versions of her father. No wonder creating events for other people suited her so well. She had long preferred to view the world from a safe distance.

  She was scarcely back in her bedroom when her father called her on her mobile. ‘What a great surprise,’ she said, her face wreathed in smiles.

  ‘Don’t ring me now,’ he howled. ‘It isn’t convenient!’

  ‘But you called me,’ Maxie pointed out, all her elation evaporating.

  ‘Can’t you remember the simplest thing, Maxine?’ her father bellowed, as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘I have a board meeting at nine. I’ve got no time for your jabbering now!’

  ‘Dad, I’m sorry—’ But the line had already been disconnected. He was as confused as ever, she realised. Her father hadn’t attended a board meeting in his life, as far as Maxie knew, and he wasn’t about to start now.

  She took a moment to compose herself, and then sniffed and straightened up. Checking her reflection in the mirror before she left the room, she remembered her father’s nursing staff telling her to get on with her life. They were probably right, but it had been so long since she had pleased herself, without making her responsibilities top of the list, she had almost forgotten how.