London Diary:

Research. And that’s all it would be. I wouldn’t be breaking Rule 2—no men. I would simply be observing this man from a purely clinical point of view. My ‘Living with a Playboy’ idea would be like one of those fly-on-the-wall documentaries. I wouldn’t be hands-on—I should be so lucky. More all hands to the pump—gulp—as I try to do my bit to save the agony aunt column. (Though I can’t deny the thought of living so close to this particular playboy has done wonders for my metabolic rate. I’ve eaten a whole tub of double chocolate chip icecream in anticipation of his return and I can still get into my jeans …)

(Imagine how slim I’d be if we lived together permanently …)

(Not that I’d ever consider living with anyone after my experience with the ex …)

Love-life? Vicarious. Active. Very active indeed.

Lustful thoughts? Are there any other kind?

And the playboy? This might all be over by tomorrow. He didn’t exactly seem thrilled to see me, and I have yet to discover how he feels when he returns from the gym to find I’m still here.

About the Author

SUSAN STEPHENS was a professional singer before meeting her husband on the tiny Mediterranean island of Malta. In true Modern™ Romance style they met on Monday, became engaged on Friday, and were married three months after that. Almost thirty years and three children later, they are still in love. (Susan does not advise her children to return home one day with a similar story, as she may not take the news with the same fortitude as her own mother!)

Susan had written several non-fiction books when fate took a hand. At a charity costume ball there was an after-dinner auction. One of the lots, ‘Spend a Day with an Author’, had been donated by Mills & Boon® author Penny Jordan. Susan’s husband bought this lot, and Penny was to become not just a great friend but a wonderful mentor, who encouraged Susan to write romance.

Susan loves her family, her pets, her friends, and her writing. She enjoys entertaining, travel, and going to the theatre. She reads, cooks, and plays the piano to relax, and can occasionally be found throwing herself off mountains on a pair of skis or galloping through the countryside. Visit Susan’s website: www.susanstephens.net—she loves to hear from her readers all around the world!

Recent titles by the same author:

THE UNTAMED ARGENTINIAN

RUTHLESS BOSS, DREAM BABY

Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

The

Shameless Life

of Ruiz Acosta

Susan Stephens

www.millsandboon.co.uk

PROLOGUE

STRETCHING out his powerful limbs, Ruiz Acosta took the call from his brother Nacho in Argentina. Gazing out across the sophisticated cityscape through the elegant window of his town house, Ruiz knew he had come to love London as much as the wild reaches of the pampas, if not more. The contrast was extreme and the challenges different, but just as stimulating.

And the women?

Pale, harried, and bundled up in so many clothes it was impossible to imagine them freeing themselves from the many wrappings long enough to make love—

‘Will I be home in time for the annual polo match?’ he asked, refocusing in order to reply to his older brother Nacho’s question. ‘Wild horses wouldn’t keep me from that brawl. Just make sure I have a stallion that can outrun Nero’s fire-breathing monster and I’ll be back in time to watch your flank, Nacho—’

‘And the business?’ the hard male voice interrupted.

‘We’re in pretty good shape. I’ve completed the reorganisation. I just have to approve one or two new members of staff. I’ll be splitting my time between Argentina and London in future, but—’

‘So long as you don’t forget your family on the other side of the world, Ruiz,’ Nacho interrupted. ‘You’re the glue that holds us together—’

‘Glue can stretch,’ Ruiz pointed out wryly.

Not liking this challenge to his authority, Nacho changed tack. ‘Have you heard from Lucia, recently?’

‘Lucia? No. Why?’ Ruiz sat up, hearing the change in his brother’s voice. ‘Is there a problem?’

‘Our sister’s gone off radar again—changed her number—’

‘Lucia was always tricky.’ And who could blame her with four older brothers looking over her shoulder? Ruiz reflected. But his sister’s safety was paramount. ‘I’m on it. I’ll drop by Lucia’s flat later to see if she’s back, or if she left any clues behind.’

Nacho seemed satisfied now he knew Ruiz was picking up the latest family problem; his voice mellowed into a dark-chocolate drawl. ‘Have you found yourself a woman yet?’

Ruiz laughed as someone, or rather something, nuzzled its way between his knees. ‘No, but a dog found me.’ There was a curse on the other end of the line, which Ruiz ignored. ‘This great black mutt wandered in from the street while I was having some furniture delivered and made himself comfortable in front of the fire. Didn’t you, Bouncer?’

‘You’ve given the dog a name?’ Nacho interrupted sharply.

‘Not just a name—a home. Bouncer is part of the furniture now.’ Ruiz ruffled the big dog’s ears.

‘This is so typical of you, Ruiz,’ Nacho rapped, reverting to elder brother mode. ‘You always were a sucker for waifs and strays. If anyone needs TLC, you’re there before they know they need help. Dios! Get rid of the mongrel!’ Nacho thundered.

‘Butt out!’ Ruiz fired back. They weren’t boys now for Nacho to push him around. His brother should know that where animals were concerned Ruiz cut no corners.

‘See you at the polo match,’ Nacho growled, ‘without the mutt!’

‘Goodbye to you too, brother,’ Ruiz murmured, staring at the silent receiver in his hand.

Nacho had issues. Having taken responsibility for his siblings when their parents died, Nacho sometimes forgot they were all adults now and that, having made his home in London rather than the pampas, Ruiz was independently successful.

Sensing his irritation, Bouncer whined. He stroked the dog to reassure him. ‘I should make allowances for Nacho?’ Ruiz queried as Bouncer’s expressive eyes invited him to take a walk. His brother ran an estancia in Argentina the size of a small country and Ruiz supposed Nacho was entitled to have his off days. ‘Okay, boy, you’re right. Let’s go,’ he said, standing up.

A big dog like Bouncer needed hours of exercise. Not unlike his master, Ruiz reflected, catching sight of his swarthy, unshaven face in the mirror. It had been another long and ultimately disappointing night. None of the women he’d met in London appealed to him with their bony figures, heavy make-up, and uniformly dyed blonde hair. It would be fair to say he had become more than a little jaded. Perhaps Nacho was right and he should return to Argentina to find some sophisticated, black-eyed siren, full of the fire and passion of South America who could not only match him in the bedroom but who would share his zest for life.

That was the type of woman his brother Nacho could do with, to shake him out of permanent warrior mode, Ruiz reflected wryly as he locked the front door. It didn’t occur to Ruiz that a similar wake-up call might be waiting for him just around the corner …

CHAPTER ONE

I’ve always kept a diary. I’m a compulsive writer some might say. I’ve heard that in the absence of anyone else to confide in people often record their thoughts.

This is day one of my new life in London and my train is just pulling into the station, so I have to keep this short. To make sure everything is in line with the K.I.S.S. principle—which, just in case my journal is discovered a thousand years from now, stands for Keep It Simple Stupid, there are only two rules:

Rely on no one but yourself.

No men—at least, not until you are established as a journalist and can call the shots!

THERE was sleet dripping down her neck and a really old man had just decided Holly was the one who needed help. Was she trying to work out which bus would take her to the station? ‘No, but thank you for asking—I just got here,’ she explained. Chin up. Jaw firm. Smile big. Stop tapping diary notes into your phone and put it away. ‘I’m waiting for a friend,’ Holly added to reassure the elderly Samaritan. Well, it was almost true. She was waiting to get hold of a friend on the phone.

The old man wished her well and went on his way but with the brief moment of human contact snatched away again she felt doubly lost. It was the noise in London, the constant traffic and the mobs of people that took some getting used to when you had just arrived in the capital from a small market town. It didn’t help that her winter coat was soaked right through, she was frozen, and her long red hair hung in sodden straggles down her back.

How could things go so wrong?

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t made the most meticulous plans before coming to London to take up the job at ROCK! magazine, carefully tallying her start date with an amazing offer from her best friend from school to stay in her central London garden flat until Holly could sort out her own accommodation. So how was it that the black cab that had brought her from the station to this faceless part of town had left her in front of a door that should have been flung wide in welcome but had instead been opened by a stranger who didn’t even know her name?

Wiping the rain from her face, Holly pulled out her phone and tried to call her friend Lucia again.

‘Lucia?’ Holly exclaimed excitedly, forced to execute a little unplanned dance as she dodged spray from the traffic. ‘Lucia—Can you hear me?’ Holly yelled over a deafening soundtrack of horns tooting, grinding gears, and steel drums—

Steel drums?

‘Holly!’ Lucia shrieked with equal excitement. ‘Is that really you?’

‘Where are you, Lucia?’

‘St Barts. Can’t you hear the sea? Holly, it’s incredible here. You’d love it—’

‘St Barts in the Caribbean?’ Holly interrupted, shivering as she bowed her head beneath a fresh onslaught of wind and icy sleet. Lucia was from a very wealthy Argentinian family, so anything was possible. ‘Isn’t it some unearthly hour there?’

‘Dunno … Still partying!’ Lucia shrieked as if to confirm this with a thousand friends.

‘So … didn’t you get my text?’ Holly asked carefully.

‘What text?’ Lucia sounded bewildered.

‘The one I wrote confirming I’d love to accept your invitation to stay with you this week until I find a place to live down here?’

‘Breaking up … breaking up.’ Lucia was shrieking with laughter now with her hand over the phone. ‘This line is terrible, Holly,’ she confided in a slurry voice. ‘Why don’t you just catch a plane and come over here?’

Er, zero cash? Zero bikinis? Zero desire to cop out of a life that had already been through the shredder …

Holly held back from explaining to Lucia that they might have attended the same school but, while Holly had been a full scholarship pupil, Lucia had been a new sports hall, an Olympic-sized swimming pool and a riding stables complete with indoor arena. Oh, yes, St Bede’s School for Girls had had a very shrewd headmistress.

‘So, where are you now, Holl?’ Lucia demanded to the accompaniment of clinking glasses.

‘Outside your flat. “Meet u apt 12/20th Nov”,’ Holly read the text from her phone, leaving out the bit about how Lucia ‘cdnt wait’, followed by ‘:-D’ and a dozen exclamation marks.

‘Did I send that?’

‘Yes, but no problem,’ Holly lied brightly.

Lucia groaned. ‘I did! I said it would be okay for you to stay. I remember now. And it is okay. At least, it would be if I were there. And I sublet my part of the house. Oh, you poor darling, I completely forgot. Were they awful to you?’

‘Actually—’

‘But you can book into a hotel, right?’ Lucia chirped before Holly could explain that the woman who had opened the door to her had been quite nice, if a little bewildered to find a stranger with a suitcase standing on her doorstep looking hopeful. ‘Of course I can,’ Holly soothed. ‘I’m really sorry I interrupted your break, Luce—’

‘No. Wait.’

‘What?’

‘The penthouse!’

‘The penthouse?’ Holly queried.

‘The family’s London penthouse is free! I’m sure it is.’

‘The penthouse, where?’ Holly said, frowning.

‘Right there at the same address,’ Lucia explained triumphantly. ‘There’s a spare key in the key box by the side door. Give me ten minutes to ring someone to make sure the penthouse is empty and find out what the code is.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Is the sun shining in St Barts?’ Lucia screamed with laughter. ‘And there’s a café right across the road,’ she said. ‘See it?’ Lucia demanded, tense with excitement now she had identified a way out of the problem. ‘Have a coffee and wait for me to call you—’

Holly stared at her silent phone. Only a member of the powerful Acosta clan could have a penthouse going spare in London, she thought wryly. Putting her phone away, she glanced across the road and saw the café Lucia had mentioned. The windows were all steamed up. It looked inviting, and also warm. But it also looked very smart, Holly thought, losing confidence. The café was all black glass and bronze—the sort of place her boyfriend had frequented between those colossal deals he used to tell her he was brokering.

Her ex-boyfriend, Holly reminded herself as she started jiggling her cumbersome suitcase down the kerb. You didn’t have to be middle-aged and weary to lose everything to a good-looking swindler, Holly had discovered. You could be young and ambitious, and think you knew it all too. But she wasn’t going to let one mistake rule her life. She was going to forget Mr Crud-for-pants dipping his greedy little paws into her bank account, and start again. Right now her goal was reaching that café where she could have a hot drink and dry off while she waited for Lucia to call.

Choosing her moment, Holly launched herself across the road—only for her suitcase to get stuck at the opposite kerb long enough for a truck to drive past and soak her. She was still spluttering with shock when a huge black dog appeared out of nowhere and attempted to lick her dry. And now a hunk in jeans had joined the scrum. ‘Here. Let me,’ he insisted in a deep, husky voice with an intriguing accent. Lifting both dog and suitcase away, he tried to steer Holly off the road.

‘Get off me!’ She was spluttering with shock, her voice rising with each syllable as she attempted to push him away. But he was like a rock and what made it worse was that he was so incredibly good-looking—exotically dark, extremely clean, and very big—which made her feel correspondingly washed-out, mud-streaked, very clumsy, and annoyed.

‘Sorry,’ he exclaimed, turning away to comfort his over-excited dog.

‘Can’t you control your animal?’ she flashed. ‘Perhaps something smaller would be easier for you to handle?’

Holly’s barb missed its mark by a mile. The man only seemed amused and succeeded in looking sexier than ever with his mouth pressed down as she ranted on. ‘Bouncer is a rescue dog from the streets,’ he explained, straightening up to his full, towering height. ‘I still have to teach him manners. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive him?’

The voice was as delicious as she had first thought, and she had stared for far too long into those dark, compelling eyes, Holly warned herself. But instead of standing on her dignity and ending this, she heard herself say, ‘You could buy me a coffee and I’ll think about it.’

‘I could,’ the man agreed.

Had she gone completely mad?

Was Rule two: No men out of the window already?

Hmm, maybe. The man was not only incredibly good-looking—tall, dark and handsome in the best possible way, which was to say a little rugged and not too contrived, with quite a thorough coating of sharp black stubble on his face and excellent teeth—but as well as an exotic accent he had an intriguing way of looking at her. His gaze didn’t flicker away like some people she could mention, but remained steady on her face.

But was that a good enough reason to risk it?

‘May I take your hesitation for acquiescence?’ he prompted. ‘You look frozen.’

She was. And the man’s steady gaze was making her feel uncomfortable. She wasn’t used to attracting interest from such good-looking men. Of course, it would have to happen when she looked more of a mess than usual. Typical. ‘I suppose a coffee wouldn’t hurt.’

‘Strong, hot coffee is what you need,’ he said firmly. ‘But before we go inside, are you going to forgive my furry friend?’

How could she refuse a request like that? Her ex hadn’t been able to get near a dog without it biting him, Holly remembered as the big dog stared back at her, panting hopefully. ‘Forgiven,’ she said, watching with interest as the man made a fuss of his dog, tempting him with a bowl of treats someone had laid out ready beneath the cafe’s rain-proof canopy. He even pointed out the bowl of clean water—

‘Bouncer’s done a real number on your outfit,’ he observed, turning round.

‘Yes, he has,’ Holly admitted ruefully. It wasn’t so much an outfit as a motley collection of sale items she’d kept at the back of the wardrobe too long to take back to the store.

‘How about I pay for dry-cleaning?’

‘Oh, no. That’s okay,’ she insisted. ‘The mud will wash off—’

‘If you’re sure? I’m happy to pay.’

A man offering to pay for anything was a first too, Holly thought. ‘Really, I’m sure,’ she said with a small smile, and then, embarrassed by so much concern and attention from a stranger, she turned away. ‘Hey, Bouncer.’ Predictably falling for the liquid brown sappy look, she started tickling the dog’s ears, which Bouncer took as a cue to roll onto his back, waving his giant-sized paws in the air.

‘You have a way with animals,’ the man observed.

‘When they’re not trying to lick me to death,’ Holly agreed wryly.

‘Shall we?’ he said, starting for the door.

In nothing more exciting than a pair of jeans, scuffed boots and a heavy jacket, he looked exactly like the type of man who could turn a girl’s world upside down. Rebuilding herself after a devastating love affair meant stepping out and stepping up. It did not mean running away. And it was only a coffee.

The guy was so big he made Holly feel dainty as she walked past him, which was another first. She was built on a heroic scale, as her father always reminded her proudly before he gave her that second and rather concerned look—the one she was supposed to miss. But it wasn’t every day a dog could coat her in mud and make her smile, or a man could hold her gaze for longer than two seconds. And at least he was polite, she reasoned as he held the door.

As the warm, coffee-scented air swept out to greet them Holly relaxed her guard enough to brush past him on the way in. The jolt to her senses woke her up and warned her to take more care in future. But it wasn’t as if she was coming on to him, Holly reasoned. He was deeply tanned and film-star striking, while she was pale and not that interesting. But there was some common ground. She felt out of place in London and he looked about as much at home on a grey day in London as a polar bear on a beach—

And about as dangerous.

Once they were inside the café he reached behind the counter and grabbed a towel, which he tossed to her.

‘Well caught,’ he said as she gasped and snatched hold of the towel. ‘May I suggest you wipe the worst of the mud off your clothes?’

‘Won’t they mind?’ Holly said worriedly, throwing a guilty glance at the counter staff.

‘They’ll mind more if you don’t wipe it off before you sit down,’ the man observed, curving his attractive smile again.

Men as good-looking as he was could do as they liked, Holly concluded as she watched him return the towel with a few words of thanks to the staff. There wasn’t one complaint. And why should there be? she thought as he shrugged off his jacket and everyone turned to look. Who wouldn’t want a better view of that body? Holly mused as her gaze roved reluctantly past the well-packed jeans to the crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled back to display a pair of massive forearms. Her day had definitely improved. Until the girls behind the counter started flirting with him and she felt a stab of something unexpected.

And a warning that drew a parallel between this man and her ex. The ex had been good-looking too, and had packed a certain degree of charisma—not pure, one hundred per cent gold star charisma like this man, but enough—until she had scratched the surface and found the base metal underneath—

‘I’ll get the coffee,’ he said, distracting her, ‘while you grab a table.’

She registered a shivery reflex when the man touched her shoulder and was powerless to hide the quiver of awareness that streaked through her. He must have felt it too. He had, Holly concluded, noticing how the steady gaze was now laced with humour. ‘You might want to wipe some of the dirt off your backside before you sit down?’ he murmured discreetly.

The fact that he’d noticed her backside was concerning. Craning her neck, Holly groaned.

‘The ladies’ room is just over there,’ one of the waitresses supplied helpfully.

‘Why don’t you leave your suitcase with me?’

She looked at the man and evaluated her choices. She could leave her belongings with someone she didn’t know, or struggle back through the crowded café with a large case in tow.

‘You can trust me,’ he said, reading her.

And you know what they say about people who tell you you can trust them, Holly thought.

‘In my case it happens to be true,’ he said evenly as if reading her mind were second nature to him.

She left the case.

Trying to ignore the amused glances of the up-market clientele, Holly retraced her steps through the café. As her face heated up under the critical scrutiny she realised that for the short time she’d been with him the man had made her feel good about herself. She didn’t want to sit down in their fancy-pants café anyway. They probably charged twice as much here for a latte as they did at the popular chain down the road—

But rebuilding Holly meant never running away. And was she seriously going to make some pathetic excuse and leave an attractive man in the lurch?

Having cleaned herself up, she returned to find him reading the financial pages with her suitcase stowed safely at his feet. ‘I had to guess what you’d like,’ he said, setting the newspaper down.

‘Skinny latte and a toasted cheese and tomato ciabatta? You’re spoiling me—’

‘No,’ he said bluntly. ‘I was ordering lunch, and I thought you might like some too.’

‘Thank you.’ An honest man was a refreshing change too. ‘It looks delicious …?’

‘Ruiz,’ he supplied, reaching over the table to shake her hand.

‘Holly.’

‘Pleased to meet you, Holly.’

A lightning bolt shot up her arm when they shook hands. And she shouldn’t be staring at him like this. ‘Ruiz?’ she said. ‘I love your name. It’s so unusual.’

‘My mother devoured romantic novels while she was pregnant. Mediterranean heroes?’

‘I was born on Christmas day.’

They laughed.

And now it occurred to her that she couldn’t remember the last time she had relaxed with a man. Laughing at the ex’s jokes was expected, even demanded, but laughing because she was happy only brought accusations that she was braying like a donkey. So she didn’t laugh.

‘Is the coffee okay for you?’ Ruiz said.

She looked at him. ‘Delicious. Thank you.’

He held her gaze with eyes that were warm and interested. She wanted to know more about him. ‘My guess is you’re between seasons and that’s why you’re in London—’

‘Between seasons?’ Ruiz queried, frowning as he sat back. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘Ski and surf? The tan, the build …’ The confident swagger that came as standard equipment on a body when a man was in peak condition, she kept to herself.

‘Am I so unusual?’

‘Yes, you are.’ Holly curbed her smile as Ruiz glanced around. He stood out like a very tanned and elegant thumb amongst a room full of stressed-out sore thumbs. ‘But you’ve got a dog with you,’ she said, frowning as she progressed her thoughts, ‘so you must live close by.’

‘Must I?’ Ruiz queried with amusement. ‘Do you always go into this sleuth-mode when you meet someone for the first time?’

‘Sorry—it’s really none of my business.’

‘No harm done, Holly.’

She loved the way he said her name—and at least he had remembered it—not that she was a troll, but if beauty was a matter of millimetres she could do with that extra inch.

Relaxing back in his seat, Ruiz tipped a toast towards her with his cup, which made Holly wonder if she was guilty of becoming too comfortable with a man she knew nothing about just because they were here in this safest of settings. The best thing to do was drink up and leave, she concluded.

‘Hey, where’s the fire?’ Ruiz demanded as she gulped her coffee down.

How could anyone look so dangerous when they smiled? Ruiz’s gaze was dark and experienced—with the emphasis on experienced. Heat curled deep inside her as he curved a sexy smile. ‘I really should be going,’ she said, coming to her senses. Why didn’t her phone ring? What had happened to Lucia?

‘Why the rush?’

‘I thought you’d be pleased to be spared further investigation.’

‘No, I like to hear your musings,’ Ruiz argued. ‘You’ve got a great imagination, Holly. Are you a creative, by any chance?’

‘Advertising? No. I’m hoping to become a journalist,’ she explained, though right now she wondered if she would make it to the first pay cheque. As far as interview technique went she was pants. She still didn’t have a clue about Ruiz—where he came from, what he did—

‘Do you have a job lined up?’

Holly brightened at the thought of it. ‘Yes, I start as a lowly intern on ROCK! magazine on Monday—’

‘ROCK! magazine.’ Ruiz hummed, clearly impressed. ‘Congratulations. It’s not everyone who gets the chance to start their working life in London at the top of the tree.’

‘It’s not that much of a deal,’ Holly admitted. ‘You’ve heard of starting at the bottom? Well, this is the rung below that.’

Ruiz laughed and pushed his coffee cup away. ‘Tell me more,’ he encouraged.

‘I’ve been hired to work as a gofer on the team who write the agony-aunt column. The post is so low-key it’s practically invisible. I’m guessing that as long as my coffee-making technique is up to scratch, I’ll be fine.’

‘Well, at least you’re doing your research,’ Ruiz pointed out, adopting a mock-serious expression as he glanced at their empty cups.

Holly laughed. ‘What about you?’ She blushed as Ruiz angled his chin to stare at her. ‘I’m sorry. I’m doing it again, aren’t I?’ she said. ‘You must think I’m rude asking you all these questions when we’ve only just met.’

‘No,’ Ruiz argued. ‘I think you’re a cute kid.’

Ouch.

‘I think you’ll make an excellent journalist one day.’

‘Is that a polite way of saying nosey’s in my genes?’

‘No. It means you’re interested in the world and those around you,’ Ruiz observed.

She wasn’t going to argue with him—especially as Holly’s world had just shrunk to the size of their table.

‘So, Holly-would-be-journalist, just for the record, I do love skiing and riding the waves, so you were right as far as that goes, but bumming around the world is not what I do.’

‘What is?’

Touching his nose, Ruiz grinned. ‘Look at it this way. Your interview technique can only get better from here on in.’

It would have to, Holly thought wryly, or she’d have nothing to write about. ‘Well, thank you for allowing me to try it out on you.’

‘Don’t mention it,’ Ruiz said with amusement, sexy lips pressing down.

And just as Holly was wondering how she could ever bear to look away and bring this folly to an end the waitress handed them the bill.

The café was filling up, the girl explained with an apologetic shrug, and they needed the table.

‘It’s lunchtime and people are keen to get out of the rain,’ Holly agreed, already on her feet. She had taken up enough of Ruiz’s time. She made a grab for the bill, but he was too fast for her. ‘My treat, remember?’ he said. ‘And if you change your mind about the dry-cleaning …’

‘I won’t.’ And then finally, as she extended the handle on her suitcase, Holly’s phone rang.

‘Let me help you,’ Ruiz suggested as she attempted to juggle her belongings and the phone.

Checking the number with relief, she answered and said quickly, ‘Can you give me a minute?’ Then holding the phone to her chest, she put Ruiz off as politely as she could. ‘That’s okay, honestly. I’ve got it. Sorry.’

‘You’re sorry again?’ Ruiz murmured dryly, the attractive crease down his cheek reappearing as he smiled. ‘You spend a lot of time being sorry, Holly …’

She didn’t know what to say to that, and stared at him, hoping she would remember that dark, compelling stare as well as the last delicious punch to her senses that came with it. ‘Bye, Ruiz. Thank you for lunch.’

‘Goodbye, Holly,’ he called after her as she raced outside to take Lucia’s call.

Lucia rattled off five numbers. ‘Got it?’ Lucia demanded.

‘Got it,’ Holly confirmed, her heart still pounding from the last moments with Ruiz.

‘You sound out of breath,’ Lucia observed suspiciously. ‘I didn’t interrupt anything important, did I?’

‘Not the sort of anything you’ve got in mind,’ Holly protested, laughing. ‘The café you recommended was just so noisy I had to run outside to take your call.’

‘Just so long as you remember the numbers.’

‘I will,’ Holly promised, reciting the code Lucia had given her. So the great adventure begins, she thought, staring up at the impressive Palladian mansion across the street.

Nice. Very nice—if a little unsophisticated for his taste, but variety was the spice of life, Ruiz reminded himself as he strode back to his town house with Bouncer in tow. Would he see her again, or would Holly simply disappear into the great melting pot of the metropolis? He liked her a lot. In fact, he couldn’t remember a woman making such a strong impression on him in so short a time. Perhaps it was because she made him laugh, or was it that clear green gaze he had found so open and expressive? He could even remember the scent she had used—fresh, citrusy, with just a hint of vanilla. He liked her mouth too—especially when she bit down on the swell of her bottom lip as if that would stop her asking him any more questions. And when she smiled—

‘Hey, Bouncer, you liked her, didn’t you?’ Soulful eyes turned his way, reminding him he had to find a solution for Bouncer before he returned to Argentina for the polo match …

No. Forget it. That would never work. The idea was ridiculous. He hardly knew Holly and the chances of ever seeing her again were remote. Though he couldn’t help wishing he might, Ruiz realised.

Oblivious to the filthy weather, he turned in through the gates of the park. It wasn’t the pampas but at least it was a big green space in the middle of the city where the big dog could enjoy some sort of freedom. When Bouncer had first wandered into his life he had intended to turn him over to the police, but when the moment had arrived he hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it, and so he’d reported Bouncer missing and taken him home. They’d been together ever since. There had to be some sort of reward for a dog who had sensed an animal lover in a world of pet-free pavements, Ruiz reflected as he reached for the ball he’d stuffed in his pocket. Firing the ball across the park, he had to admit his brother Nacho was right—Ruiz shouldn’t have taken the big dog on, only to keep him confined in London.

‘Time is running out for us, boy,’ he told Bouncer when the dog came bounding back. Ruiz shot the ball again, and felt his heart jag when Bouncer, having joyfully snatched it up, came racing back to him. Was it wrong to hope fate would smile on them? Ruiz reflected as the big dog dropped the ball at his feet. And then he remembered Holly and wondered if it already had.

CHAPTER TWO

London Diary:

If at first you don’t succeed—

GIVE UP

No!

No. That wasn’t what she meant to write at all.

So. Delete that and start again.

Okay …

You’d think it would be seventh heaven living in the Acosta family penthouse with all that space, state-of-the-art gizmos, and furnishings courtesy of a top interior designer, but actually it means not using anything in the kitchen in case you scratch, burn, or break it. And don’t get me started on the bathroom. Basically, I’m fed up with tiptoeing around. I might be living in the city, but I’m still a countrygirl at heart. *Think* Bigfoot with ten carrier bags on each arm blundering through the glass department at Harrods—and you’re still not even close. And then there’s the job at ROCK! Working at the hottest magazine in town should be a dream come true, right? Wrong. Things really couldn’t get any worse—until you come to my love life.

Love life still zero, though lustful thoughts are on the up, thanks to the man I met at the café called Ruiz, who looks like a sex god and who thinks I’m a ‘cute kid’.

Oh, good. I am a twenty-three-year-old ‘kid’ with breasts and a Brazilian.

The wax?

I always was the glass-half-full type of girl, and judging by the pressure on the front of Ruiz’s jeans he could fill that glass very nicely indeed.

Not that she was looking for a boyfriend, but her readers didn’t need to know that where Holly was concerned it was a case of once bitten for ever shy. She had to light up the page not dwell on her mistakes, because it was all going wrong at ROCK! The job that should have been perfect for her, where she could be involved in things that mattered by working on the agony-aunt column, in however lowly a position, was on the line. She stared at the latest e-mail memo on her screen; it seemed she was about to be booted before she even got a chance to prove what she could do.

Latest figures dire. Agony column doomed unless reader numbers improve significantly. Need a diary feature to head the column—something juicy. Go, team! And remember: last in, first out. That means you, Holly.

Forcing her chin up, Holly flashed a promise-to-do-better smile at the staffer who had circulated the mail. What was Holly supposed to do to make things better—unless readers would be interested in the incredible -disappearing-sock story, or perhaps the find-a-white-bra-amidst-the-various-shades-of-grey scoop?

‘I’m on it,’ Holly assured the staffer on her way out of the office that night, adopting a seriously concerned expression. She was seriously concerned—for her job.

The staffer managed an even more seriously concerned expression. ‘Don’t want to lose you, Holly, but …’

The staffer was right. The column was dead unless someone came up with an idea fast.

Hiding behind other people’s problems instead of risking another Holly-picks-the-wrong-man-again screw-up had been an attractive proposition when she’d first come down to London, Holly reflected as she walked briskly through the Christmas shopping crowds to the bus stop. But now all she wanted was to take her new life by the scruff of the neck and make a success of it. Her days of hiding behind anything were over. And with no reader letters to answer hiding behind other people’s problems wasn’t an option, anyway. The sticking point with the failing agony-aunt column was that no one cared any more—people just moved on to the next relationship. It was uncool to admit you needed advice. She had to come up with something novel. If she failed she’d be back at that door with the peeling paintwork and steel mesh security panel to prevent it being kicked in, otherwise known as her first job disaster.

She’d been straight out of college and green as a cabbage when she rocked up at Frenzy, a well known magazine. Well-ish known, Holly amended, hailing a bus. She had thought herself really lucky to have such an exciting opportunity straight out of college, in what had turned out to be a badly lit call centre. ‘I’m supposed to be on the features desk?’ she had explained to the old man in carpet slippers who’d shown her around. It had turned out Holly’s desk was a length of chipped and yellowing plywood facing a peeling wall and she was to share said desk with around twenty other girls. The girls had been too busy speaking on the phone to notice Holly’s arrival, and at first she hadn’t been able to figure out why they were all working from dog-eared scripts and panting into microphones—until her mind had flicked rapidly through the pages of the magazine. Frenzy was quite raunchy, though nothing out of the ordinary until you came to the back pages where there were a lot of ads for services like Personal Tarot Readings, Massage By Britain’s Strongest Woman, or Chat To Chantelle In Perfect Confidence—

Oh …

‘Erm … I’d like to see my supervisor, please.’

And that had been the end of that.

She definitely wasn’t going back to some telephone sex dungeon, Holly determined as she arrived at the penthouse—or Acosta heaven, as she had come to think of her temporary lodgings. She was going to stay at ROCK! and make a success of the job she had. Once through the door, she carefully removed her shoes to preserve the immaculate gleam of the highly polished wooden floor. Shrugging her coat off, she draped it on a chair, shooting her bag, briefcase, newspaper, magazines and scarf into the mix. Just think. If she made a success of her career as a journalist she could own something like this herself one day …

Dream on, Holly thought, turning full circle in the huge marble-tiled hall. A vaulted glass ceiling with a fabulous view of the stars glittered overhead, while life-sized Roman busts that might have been originals from antiquity for all she knew stood on pedestals either side of the huge double doors. Not only was the cost of a place like this far beyond Holly’s wildest dreams, she would also have to learn how not to be clumsy. A lesson too far, perhaps? No wonder she felt on edge amidst this splendour—one sneeze and she could be bankrupt for life. But for now the penthouse was home, so she might as well make the most of it. Tonight was green face mask night. She did all her best thinking in the bath, so this soak was set to be a long one.

Fate played strange tricks sometimes, Ruiz thought, frowning thoughtfully as he put the phone down and sat back. After he’d been searching high and low for his sister, Lucia had called him up out of the blue, unprompted. He might have known if it was a question of loyalty to a friend, Lucia would break cover immediately. There had been a swift exchange of information and a deal had been brokered between them. Like Nacho, Ruiz was keen for his kid sister to make use of her qualifications rather than to waste her time hanging around the party circuit. Lucia would return to the real world if he agreed to maintain his silence on her current whereabouts. ‘But get home fast. On the next flight,’ he stressed.

‘So you don’t mind my friend Holly staying at the penthouse?’

‘Not at all.’ Fate was definitely playing into his hands, Ruiz reflected while Bouncer murmured with contentment as he rearranged his massive furry body on Ruiz’s feet. Apart from the dog’s future looking a whole lot rosier, Ruiz had asked enough questions to establish that the Holly he had met at the café and had felt an instant connection with was the same friend his sister had forgotten she had invited to stay. Confirmation of this had elicited several squeals of excitement from Lucia when she realised he had already met her best friend, while he was more than looking forward to a return match with Holly. And as for making up for his sister’s oversight—

‘There’s just one thing, Ruiz,’ Lucia said, interrupting these thoughts.

‘Which is?’ he prompted.

‘I gave Holly the impression that she would have the penthouse to herself.’

‘How was I supposed to know my town house would flood?’

‘Of course you couldn’t know, but—’

‘I need somewhere to stay,’ he pointed out. ‘My town house is within walking distance of the penthouse, so it makes perfect sense for me to stay there while the repairs are being carried out. I can keep an eye on the builders that way. Your friend Holly will just have to make room for me.’ Lucia knew as well as he that the penthouse had more than enough bedrooms and could comfortably fit a medium-sized house within its walls.

‘I’m sure she will,’ Lucia insisted. ‘I’m just asking you to be diplomatic, Ruiz.’

‘Aren’t I always?’

‘Er, no,’ his sister said.

‘There’s a first time for everything, Lucia.’

‘Yeah, right.’

‘Is that it?’ he asked impatiently.

‘Play nice, Ruiz.’

That was easy. ‘I promise.’

‘Not too nice,’ Lucia added, concern returning to her voice. ‘Please try to remember that Holly is a good friend of mine.’

‘How could I forget?’ he said dryly. ‘Come on, Bouncer,’ he prompted. ‘I bet there’s a brand-new sofa at the penthouse for you to chomp on.’ There was certainly a female interest for Ruiz.

Scenting change in the air, Bouncer lifted his head to look at him. ‘You’re right,’ Ruiz agreed. ‘What are we waiting for? Let’s get moved in.’

This was the first time she had relaxed properly since arriving in London, Holly realised as she settled back in the deliciously scented foam bath. It was the first time she had trialled a bright green face pack also. Attempting to move her mouth, she quickly forgot the idea in case the face pack cracked. She also had a gloopy oil treatment on her hair and cooling discs of cucumber balanced precariously on her face to soothe her resting eyes. All these preparations were essential for clearing her mind ready for the Great Idea to drop in. It was a little worrying that so far no idea, great or otherwise, had shown the slightest inclination to drop by—

What was that?

Shooting up in alarm when she heard the front door opening, she snatched the cucumber from her eyes, switched off the bubbles and remained still, listening.

When she recognised the voice of the intruder she cracked the face pack.

What the hell was he doing here?

And should she be in any doubt at all as to the identity of the intruder a big dog was barking excitedly.

He hammered on the bathroom door. What the hell was Holly doing? He had arrived at the penthouse with all sorts of images in his mind—Holly freshly showered and scented, with her hair clean and gleaming, falling in soft waves around her shoulders, Holly with rosy cheeks instead of frozen-to-the marrow cheeks, her green eyes in harmony with the big smile on her welcoming face. He had not expected to discover that Holly appeared to be holding a garage sale in the hall—or to trip over the handles of her briefcase. Having expended some of his irritation in a few, well-chosen words, he now discovered she was in the bath.

This wasn’t going to plan. What was he supposed to do now?

‘Open this door now,’ he commanded.

What should she do? Holly wondered, still cowering in the bath. Ruiz from the café was threatening to break the door down. This didn’t make any sense. Who was he? Some kind of crazy? Had he followed her? More importantly, was he dangerous? ‘Where did you get the key?’ she yelled out.

‘From the key box,’ he yelled back.

‘And the code?’ she said suspiciously.

‘From my sister.’

‘Your sister?’ Holly’s brain went into overdrive, and then crashed.

‘My sister, Lucia Acosta,’ Ruiz shouted through the door.

Yes, she’d got that far.

So Ruiz was one of the notorious Acosta brothers. Holly had never met Lucia’s playboy brothers so couldn’t claim to know much about them, but she did know they were polo-playing bad boys, who, according to Lucia, rode rampage through the world’s women as well as their opponents on the field of play. ‘And what are you doing here?’ she demanded, swishing bubbles over her naked bits.

‘More questions, Holly?’

He could laugh at a time like this?

‘Why don’t you come out of the bathroom and speak to me face to face?’ Ruiz challenged.

Yes, she would, Holly determined, firming her jaw. She wasn’t going to cower in the bath. The house might belong to the Acosta family, but Lucia had been very clear when she had told Holly that the penthouse was empty and that Holly could have exclusive use of it until she found somewhere else to live. Lucia hadn’t mentioned brothers barging in without warning. ‘Shouldn’t you be in Argentina playing polo?’ she countered, playing for time as she turned the shower on to rinse the gunk out of her hair

‘I live and work in London,’ Ruiz called back. ‘Will you be long?’

‘As long as it takes.’ Did her nipples have to respond with such a ridiculous amount of interest to Ruiz’s shiver-inducing drawl?

Snagging a robe from the hook on the back of the door, she prepared to confront him. Belting it tightly, she reminded herself that new Holly didn’t run away, and that new Holly stayed to fight her corner. Braced for battle, she swung the door wide. They stood confronting each other for a moment and then Ruiz began to laugh. ‘What?’ Holly demanded. It was only when her frown deepened and bits of green gunk started dropping onto the floor that she realised she had forgotten to rinse the face mask off. With an imperious tilt to her chin, she backed into the bathroom and closed the door.

‘Would you like me to come back later?’ Ruiz jibed through the door.

Holly responded with something unrepeatable that only made him laugh. She quickly washed the face mask off with ice-cold water. She needed a shock to get over seeing Ruiz again. He shouldn’t be so stunning. It wasn’t fair.

‘Perhaps you’d like more time to compose yourself?’ Ruiz growled through the door.

‘I’m ready to see you any day of the week,’ she assured him, flinging it open. Okay, but maybe not today, Holly conceded as Ruiz gave her a lazy twice-over.

‘Something bothering you?’ he enquired.

‘I’m perfectly calm,’ she said as her cheeks fired red.

Ruiz met this with a sceptical huff. ‘Even when I tell you I’m planning to move in?’

‘You can’t move in!’ Holly exclaimed.

‘Can’t?’ Ruiz queried laconically.

‘Of course not. I’m living here,’ Holly protested indignantly.

‘So …?’ Ruiz shrugged.

‘So Lucia said I could have sole use of the penthouse until I find somewhere else to live, and—’

‘And do you have a contract to this effect?’ He was beginning to feel more like the big, bad wolf than the brother of Holly’s best friend. He was used to sophisticated women who knew the score, rather than girls like Holly, and was torn between indulging her and kissing the breath out of her lungs. Only Lucia’s plea that he should be on his best behaviour stood between them.

‘No, of course I don’t have a contract,’ she was protesting. ‘How can I when Lucia’s in—when Lucia’s away,’ she amended, clearly uncertain as to how much he knew about his sister’s whereabouts. ‘We have a verbal agreement.’

‘My sister acts on impulse sometimes,’ Ruiz agreed, easing confidently onto one hip.

He admired Holly’s loyalty and could only imagine how it might be having Lucia as a friend. This felt like new territory to Ruiz. His strategy had already gone out of the window. Then he was distracted by something flimsy and pink on the floor and noticed Holly’s face had turned a deeper shade of pink when she saw him looking at it. She quickly toed away the racy thong. ‘Lucia must have warned you I was coming?’ he pressed. ‘I can’t imagine my sister didn’t call you.’

‘Probably a thousand times,’ Holly agreed, no doubt imagining her best friend’s panic. ‘But my phone is in the bedroom.’

She saw the tension in Ruiz’s shoulders relax a little, but as he slowly looked her up and down Holly was sure that lazy gaze could easily penetrate anything as mundane as towelling.

‘Well, I’m here now. So I advise you to get used to it, Holly. May I suggest you get dressed while I go and settle Bouncer in?’

‘Bouncer?’ Holly exclaimed. She couldn’t hide the panic in her voice. ‘Is it wise to bring Bouncer in here?’ The damage the big dog could do to all the treasures in the penthouse didn’t bear thinking about.

‘Would you prefer me to leave him on the street?’

‘No, of course not, but—’

‘Or put him into kennels while my town house is being repaired?’

‘That would only distress him. You told me he’s a rescue dog.’

‘Precisely,’ Ruiz interrupted. He was serious for a moment, and then his expression changed to one Holly didn’t like at all. ‘I imagine Bouncer could have a field day in here unless he was properly supervised …’

‘I agree,’ she said. She didn’t like Ruiz’s tone, but it did seem as if he might have seen the light where the dangers of breakages were concerned.

‘But with you to watch him while I’m away—’

‘Me?’ Holly exclaimed. ‘You can’t go away and leave Bouncer with me.’

Recognising his name, Bouncer, no doubt remembering the fuss Holly had given him the first time they met, padded over to the bathroom door and sat at her feet. What was she supposed to do? Ignore him? Bending down, she gave the dog a proper welcome, which Bouncer took as his cue to clean her all over again.

‘Look how pleased he is to see you,’ Ruiz said in a coaxing tone that set more alarm bells than ever ringing. ‘How can you possibly turn him away?’

Holly sighed, but the look she reserved for Ruiz was not at all kind-hearted. He got the special hard look she was working on to deter those who thought they could put one over on new Holly. Ruiz responded to this with the lift of one ebony brow and a look that reminded Holly that, unlike his dog, Ruiz was dangerous. The Acosta brothers were notorious playboys with hair-raising reputations, and like Lucia, they inhabited a very different world from Holly.

So? Keep your nerve and fight fire with fire.

‘Bouncer,’ Holly murmured fondly, choosing to ignore the dog’s master for now. ‘Are you looking for a little mayhem?’ Gazing up, she threw the gauntlet straight back in Ruiz’s face. ‘You are? Good boy. There’s a lot of scope for you here.’ Game on.

The look Ruiz gave her now made Holly’s heart beat a rapid tattoo. She should have remembered that Ruiz Acosta was an international sportsman who liked nothing better than a challenge, and in spite of her tough talk Holly’s self-confidence was as fragile as a sugar strand. Making her handsome parents proud of their unaccountably plain daughter by winning a full scholarship to a prestigious school had been one of the high spots of Holly’s life, until she’d discovered how the other, more privileged girls had felt about it. It was only when Lucia, easily the most envied girl in the school, had palled up with her that Holly’s confidence had slowly returned. Well, that sugar strand had just snapped and now she was steeped in self-doubt again.

‘I’m going to have a beer and then I’m going to the gym,’ Ruiz said. ‘Make sure you’ve cleared up your mess by the time I get back.’

Yes, master. Holly’s face burned red, but for once she remained sensibly silent.

Please don’t hurry back, Holly thought, catching her breath against the bathroom door. She needed time to think. She could hear Ruiz moving about in the kitchen, but for a moment she did nothing, thought nothing, barely breathed, until, pulling herself round, she came to exactly the same conclusion: this wasn’t going to work. Living with a playboy when she was still recovering from the most disastrous love affair of all time? How could she share the same space as a man as brazenly masculine and as unswervingly domineering as Ruiz Acosta? If Ruiz was moving in, she was moving out—

And that was exactly what she would have done had not sensible Holly chosen that moment to intervene and remind flustered Holly that she would still have to sort out alternative accommodation first, and that in the meantime she had no alternative other than to get along with Ruiz. Let’s face it, she thought our paths don’t even need to cross in a penthouse this size.

‘Can we just get one thing straight?’ she said to Ruiz, entering the kitchen after having thrown on her fat jeans, as opposed to her I’ve-lost-weight jeans, together with her oldest, most comfortable shirt. She had left her hair to dry naturally, and bother the make-up—she wasn’t interested in men. She merely wanted to catch Ruiz before he left for the gym and set a few things straight.

He paused with the bottle of beer hovering close to his mouth.

Sexy mouth …

Concentrate, Holly told herself firmly. They had to get things out in the open if living together stood any chance of working.

‘Yes?’ Ruiz prompted.

Did he have to have such gorgeous eyes? Did he have to angle that stubble-shaded chin to stare at her? Did his mouth have to curve in that infectious and very dangerous smile? ‘When you say you’re going away,’ she said, feeling her throat dry as she forced her gaze somewhere to the west of Ruiz’s left ear, ‘don’t you mean going away as in flying to Argentina to play polo with your brothers?’

‘That will be my next trip,’ Ruiz confirmed, his dark eyes watchful.

‘So this isn’t just the occasional weekend we’re talking about—this is full-on adoption of a huge, lollopy dog.’

‘Temporary guardianship,’ Ruiz corrected her, ‘of my dog.’

He made it sound like a royal command—a privilege. And if there hadn’t been such a lovely dog involved …

Ruiz showed no shame, Holly concluded. ‘You’re going to leave Bouncer at the penthouse I’ve been cautiously tiptoeing around. May I remind you that Bouncer has a huge fluffy tail and four big feet?’

‘Your feet are lovely,’ Ruiz observed, completely taking the wind out of her sails.

He wasn’t supposed to say things like that and sound as if he meant it. Now all she could think about was the fact that she hadn’t put shoes on because she’d been in too much of a hurry to speak to Ruiz before he went out.

Concentrate, Holly told herself fiercely as Ruiz curved a questioning smile. There was no point giving him any more satisfaction than she already had. ‘What you’re suggesting,’ she hissed in a low, urgent voice as if Bouncer could understand them, ‘is a licence for carnage.’ Couldn’t she create enough of that on her own? Holly reasoned. She was just recoiling from the mental image of the type of carnage Bouncer could create when The Idea dropped in.

No one said it was going to arrive at the most convenient time, Holly reasoned as Ruiz began to frown. ‘What now?’ she prompted.

‘I was just thinking that it’s not like you to be silent for so long. You are feeling okay, aren’t you?’ Holly’s warning look only succeeded in making Ruiz’s eyes glow a little brighter. ‘Anyway,’ he added offhandedly, ‘I’m going out.’

But she wanted to float her idea. ‘No, wait.’

‘Missing me already?’ Ruiz suggested with maximum irony.

‘Not one bit,’ she snapped. ‘In fact, please don’t feel you must hurry back.’

This provoked a crooked smile that lodged attractively in Ruiz’s stubble-darkened cheek. ‘I love it when a plan comes together, don’t you?’ he said. And when Holly gritted her teeth in order not to say something she would regret, he added, ‘I understand you’d probably like a little time to prepare yourself properly for my return.’

‘Prepare myself properly?’ Holly exploded. ‘Who do you think you are? The Sheikh of Araby? I was merely pondering the possibility of doing some work without any further interruption,’ she assured him primly.

‘Oh, come on, Holly,’ Ruiz murmured. ‘You and I both know that too much work and no play will make you a very dull girl indeed. See you after the gym?’ he said, his eyes dark and dangerous.

‘I can’t wait,’ Holly called after him sarcastically. Living with a playboy wouldn’t be easy, but at least Ruiz had given her The Idea.

Bravo! Holly-the-journalist!

Except … there was one small problem. She already knew Ruiz didn’t like Holly poking her nose into his business.

But what was he going to do—refuse her offer to dog-sit in London while he was playing polo in Argentina? She didn’t think so. She’d seen the glint in Ruiz’s eyes. He’d gone in hard, thinking she would quickly fall into line. He had expected her to offer to help him in any way she could. Well, she might—on one condition that Ruiz helped her too. He must give her some titbits to write about. If he did, living with a playboy might not be so bad after all. In fact, it might just save her bacon. The column she had in mind would be an observational piece—meaning she could safely witness the life of a playboy while remaining at a prudent distance. This would be like confronting her demons from behind a screen. To save her career she would lift the lid on living with a playboy for her readers. Why shouldn’t everyone else laugh at her trials and tribulations? She did.

Slinging his gym bag over his shoulder, he left his luggage in the hall and stormed out of the penthouse. The only solution, Ruiz had concluded, was to pound his way out of frustration. Having been knocked for six—or was that sex?—by the sight of Holly with her glorious redgold hair streaming around her shoulders like a gleaming cape, Holly half naked with her creamy flesh just visible above the robe, he was painfully threatening to burst out of his jeans. In that respect, she had exceeded his expectations. Truthfully? He had never felt like this before. If Holly had been staying in Lucia’s garden apartment he could have just about coped, but having her stay with him at the penthouse only yards from his bed?

Gritting his teeth, Ruiz lifted his own body weight above his head, but nothing helped to blank out the voluptuous woman waiting for him back at the penthouse. And hard as he tried he could find no solution to the problem. He wouldn’t touch a friend of Lucia’s. He couldn’t eject a friend of Lucia’s from the penthouse, either. So must he put his own life on hold? He could hardly entertain while Holly was in residence. Lowering the bar slowly back into its cups, he made a silent pledge not to go near her. He could only hope for Holly’s sake that she found somewhere else to live as soon as she could.

He had left Bouncer with the girls on Reception where his faithful hound was sure to get a spoiling. The dog bounded up to him, seeming as excited as he was at the prospect of returning home.

Not excited, Ruiz told himself firmly. Certainly not excited to get back to the penthouse and find Holly waiting for him. It had been a long, hard day, and when he opened the door on what was supposed to be a luxurious hideaway in the best part of London, there would be girl stuff everywhere. No doubt the kitchen would be a mess, and, having seen the state of the hall, he had no doubt Holly would have trialled every bathroom by the time he got back, strewing damp towels all over the place. All he longed for was a good night’s sleep, but with a big dog to care for checking into a hotel was out of the question. The penthouse, with its stunning views of London and seductive luxury, should have been perfect, and it might have been, had he not had an unexpected—and frustratingly unsettling—lodger to entertain.

Okay, so he’d set some ground rules.

‘Come on, Bouncer,’ Ruiz prompted, snapping the leash onto the dog’s collar. ‘Let’s get this over with.’

CHAPTER THREE

Research. And that’s all it would be. I wouldn’t be breaking rule two—no men. I would simply be observing this man from a purely clinical point of view. My ‘Living with a Playboy’ idea would be like one of those fly-on-the-wall documentaries. I wouldn’t be hands-on—I should be so lucky. More, all hands to the pump—gulp—as I try to do my bit to save the agony-aunt column. (Though I can’t deny the thought of living so close to this particular playboy has done wonders for my metabolic rate. I’ve eaten a whole tub of double chocolate chip in anticipation of his return and I can still get into my jeans.)

(Imagine how slim I’d be if we lived together permanently.)

(Not that I’d ever consider living with anyone after my experience with the ex.)

Love life? Vicarious. Active. Very active indeed. Lustful thoughts? Are there any other kind?

And the playboy? This might all be over by tomorrow. He didn’t exactly seem thrilled to see me, and I have yet to discover how he feels when he returns from the gym to find I’m still here.

HAVING finished her London diary entry, Holly was still tinkering with her first ‘Living with a Playboy’ feature when Ruiz arrived back. The new headline looked fabulous on the top of the agony-aunt column. If that didn’t attract reader interest, nothing would.

She listened as Ruiz went into one of the bathrooms to take a shower and tried her hardest not to imagine him stripped naked. That proved a lot harder than she’d thought. The secret of successful cohabiting was not getting in Ruiz’s way, Holly concluded, tensing as the shower turned off. If she was going to make a success of the ‘Living with a Playboy’ feature, she had to make sure Ruiz didn’t think of her as a nuisance, always watching him and asking questions. She wasn’t in any danger, she told herself repeatedly, counting the seconds until he entered the room, since she had vowed off men, and anyway there was no chance Ruiz would look at her that way. The main thing was not to give him an excuse to throw her out if she was going to make him the subject of her column.

Buttering-up time had arrived. While he’d been gone she had tidied away all her things and knocked up a tasty soup, using the fresh ingredients she had bought earlier. She’d also made sure there was plenty of ice for the large gin and tonic she guessed a sophisticated man like Ruiz might want, and had even put on some make-up—not very expertly, and certainly not enough to suggest she was after him. She hoped that assuming the role of unthreatening temporary lodger might work. She would even play housekeeper at a stretch. She’d do anything to salvage her career. She’d even iron a few shirts if she had to. She couldn’t see any man objecting to that. Whatever it took for Ruiz to agree to become the subject of her column, Holly told herself tensely, flinging herself down in front of her laptop when she heard him advancing on the kitchen.

Living with a Playboy

Well, here I am, living the dream—or nightmare—not sure which it’s going to be yet. I should know more if I survive these next few minutes.

I don’t think I could have engineered living with a playboy. Who could, unless they wanted to be a rich man’s plaything? And I can’t say that’s ever appealed to me. But I will do my best to keep a roof over my head until I can make alternative arrangements. I don’t particularly like myself for being so cold-blooded about this, but it’s the only solution I can see to keep my job right now.

To make up for my scheming I’m going to be the best housemate anyone could have—at least, that’s what I keep telling myself. But the first time the playboy brings home a playmate I’m guessing I might show another side of myself altogether. It’s not that I’m interested in him, and he certainly isn’t interested in me. This is all in the line of duty, and—

Lowering the lid on her laptop, Holly arranged her face in a welcoming smile and stood up to greet Ruiz. Enter Ruiz: dark, glowering, massively powerful, and stunningly attractive. ‘Hello,’ Holly said brightly. ‘I hope you had a good session at the gym?’

As Ruiz angled his head slightly to stare at her Holly realised she would never be able to keep this up. Faced by so much pumped and bulging muscle and with his thick black hair still damp from his shower, she knew she couldn’t live with Ruiz as a passive observer without going completely off her head. ‘Drink?’ she enquired. Was that piping voice really hers? ‘Gin and tonic, perhaps …?’

‘A beer would be good.’

‘Beer it is, then.’

‘You’re unusually compliant, Holly,’ Ruiz observed, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

She made a dismissive gesture. ‘I’m just feeling a little guilty that I didn’t make the connection between you and Lucia right away. When we first met at the café?’ she prompted.

‘I didn’t make the connection either,’ Ruiz pointed out. ‘And Lucia told you what exactly about her brothers?’

Holly blushed. The thought of even the smallest part of what Lucia had told her about her brothers was enough to make the hair stand up on the back of her neck. ‘You must be stressed out and tired,’ she said to change the subject, ‘and frustrated that you haven’t got the private space you anticipated, but—’

‘Breathe,’ Ruiz suggested dryly.

Ruiz’s dark gaze washed over her in a way that made her bones melt. She had dressed carefully—demurely—on purpose, Holly realised now, in a pair of baggy jeans and a shapeless old shirt, so as not to draw attention. She suspected Ruiz knew exactly what she’d done, and that he also knew she was suffering a very female response to his extremely masculine assessment.

‘Where’s that beer you promised me?’

Maybe this subservient domestic goddess role was going to be a little harder than she thought, Holly reflected, realising she was still gazing at Ruiz. ‘Coming right up,’ she said, forcing her feet to walk away.

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