Nic was tense as he stood in the open-air courtyard in the middle of his hacienda-style home. His focus was on the imposing entrance doorway, which was still admitting a long line of glittering guests who had travelled from all over the world for this wine-tasting.

Hundreds of candles flickered in huge lanterns, waiters dressed immaculately in black and white moved among the guests offering wine and canapés. But all Nic could think was … would Maddie come? And why had he asked her, really?

Nic told himself it was because he wanted her gone. His belly clenched in rejection of that—it went much deeper. And he knew it. Really what he’d wanted since eight years ago, since he’d had that electric glimpse of her in a club in London, was to see her broken and contrite. To see that pale perfection undone.

About the Author

ABBY GREEN got hooked on Mills & Boon® romances while still in her teens, when she stumbled across one belonging to her grandmother in the west of Ireland. After many years of reading them voraciously, she sat down one day and gave it a go herself. Happily, after a few failed attempts, Mills & Boon bought her first manuscript.

Abby works freelance in the film and TV industry, but thankfully the four a.m. starts and the stresses of dealing with recalcitrant actors are becoming more and more infrequent, leaving her more time to write!

She loves to hear from readers, and you can contact her through her website at www.abby-green.com. She lives and works in Dublin.

Recent titles by the same author:

THE LEGEND OF DE MARCO

THE CALL OF THE DESERT

THE SULTAN’S CHOICE

SECRETS OF THE OASIS

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

One Night

with the Enemy

Abby Green

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This is for Michelle Lawlor, wine buff extraordinaire,

with heartfelt thanks. Any errors are entirely my own!

I’d also like to dedicate this book to the memory of

Penny Jordan. I am one of her many legions of fans

who give thanks for her wonderful legacy.

CHAPTER ONE

MADDIE Vasquez stood in the shadows like a fugitive. Just yards away the plushest hotel in Mendoza rose in all its majestic colonial glory to face the imposing Plaza Indepencia. She reassured herself that she wasn’t actually a fugitive. She was just collecting herself … She could see the calibre of the crowd going into the foyer: monied and exclusive. The elite of Mendoza society.

The evening was melting into night and lights twinkled in bushes and trees nearby, lending the scene a fairy-tale air. Maddie’s soft mouth firmed and she tried to quell her staccato heartbeat. It had been a long time since she’d believed in fairy tales—if ever. She’d never harboured illusions about the dreamier side of life. A mother who saw you only as an accessory to be dressed up and paraded like a doll and a father who resented you for not being the son he’d lost would do that to a child.

Maddie shook her head, as if that could shake free the sudden melancholy assailing her, and at the same time her eye was caught by the almost silent arrival of a low-slung silver vehicle at the bottom of the main steps leading up to the hotel. Instinctively she drew back more. The car was clearly vintage and astronomically expensive. Her mouth dried and her palms grew sweaty—would it be …? The door was opened by a uniformed hotel doorman and a tall shape uncurled from the driving seat.

It was him.

Her heart stopped beating for a long moment.

Nicolás Cristobal de Rojas. The most successful vintner in Mendoza—and probably all of Argentina by now. Not to mention his expansion into French Bordeaux country, which ensured he had two vintages a year. In the notoriously fickle world of winemaking the de Rojas estate profits had tripled and quadrupled in recent years, and success oozed from every inch of his six-foot-four, broad-shouldered frame.

He was dressed in a black tuxedo, and Maddie could see his gorgeous yet stern and arrogant features as he cast a bored-looking glance around him. It skipped over where she was hiding like a thief, and when he looked away her heart stuttered back to life.

She dragged in a breath. She’d forgotten how startling his blue eyes were. He looked leaner. Darker. Sexier. His distinctive dark blond hair had always made it easy to mark him out from the crowd—not that his sheer charisma and good looks wouldn’t have marked him out anyway. He’d always been more than his looks … he’d always carried a tangible aura of power and sexual energy.

Another flash of movement made her drag her eyes away, and she saw a tall blonde beauty emerging from the other side of the car, helped by the conscientious doorman. As Maddie watched, the woman walked around to his side, her long fall of blonde hair shining almost as much as the floor-length silver lamé dress which outlined every slim curve of her body with a loving touch.

The woman linked her arm through his. Maddie couldn’t see the look they shared, but from the smile on the woman’s face she didn’t doubt it was hot. A sudden shaft of physical pain lanced her and Maddie put a hand to her belly in reaction. No, she begged mentally. She didn’t want him to affect her like this. She didn’t want him to affect her at all.

She’d wasted long teenage years dreaming about him, lusting after him, building daydreams around him. And that foolish dreaming had culminated in catastrophe and a fresh deepening of the generations-old hostility between their families. It had caused the rift to end all rifts. It had broken her own family apart. She’d realised all of her most fervent fantasies—but had also been thrown into a nightmare of horrific revelations.

The last time she’d seen Nicolás Cristobal de Rojas had been a few years ago, in a club in London. Their eyes had clashed across the thronged room, and she’d never forget the look of pure loathing on his face before he’d turned away and disappeared.

Sucking in deep breaths and praying for control, Maddie squared her shoulders. She couldn’t lurk in the shadows all night. She’d come to tell Nicolás Cristobal de Rojas that she was home and had no intention of selling out to him. Not now or ever. She held the long legacy of her family in her hands and it would not die with her. He had to know that—or he might put the same pressure on her as he’d done to her father, taking advantage of his physical and emotional weakness to encourage him to sell to his vastly more successful neighbour.

As much as she’d have loved to hide behind solicitors’ letters, she couldn’t afford to pay the legal fees. And she didn’t want de Rojas to think she was too scared to confront him herself. She tried to block out the last cataclysmic meeting they’d had—if she went down that road now she’d turn around for sure. She had to focus on the present. And the future.

She knew better than anyone just how ruthless the de Rojas family could be, but even she had blanched at the pressure Nicolás de Rojas had put on an ailing man. It was the kind of thing she’d have expected of his father, but somehow, despite everything, not of Nicolás … more fool her. She of all people should have known what to expect.

With a shaking hand she smoothed down the glittery black dress she wore. Maddie’s meagre budget since she’d left Argentina hadn’t run to buying party dresses. Tonight was the prestigious annual Mendoza Vintners’ Dinner, and she wouldn’t have been able to get close to the place if she didn’t look the part. Luckily she’d found some of her mother’s dresses that her father hadn’t destroyed in his rage eight years before …

At first it had looked modest enough—high-necked at the front. It was only when she’d had it on, aware that if she didn’t leave soon she’d miss her window of opportunity, that she’d realised it was backless—to just above her buttocks. All her mother’s other dresses needed serious dry-cleaning. This one had somehow miraculously been protected in a plastic covering. So it was this dress or nothing.

Maddie just wished that her mother had been less flamboyant—and taller. Maddie was five foot nine and the dress ended around her mid-thigh, showing lots of pale leg. Her unusual colouring of black hair, green eyes and pale skin was courtesy of a great-great-grandmother who had come to Argentina with a wave of Irish immigrants and subsequently married into the Vasquez family.

So now, as she finally stepped from the shadows outside the hotel and the gentle breeze whistled over her bare flesh, she felt ridiculously exposed. Mustering all the courage she would need for this encounter, she valiantly ignored the double-take glances of recognition she drew, and strode into the luxurious marbled lobby.

Nicolás Cristobal de Rojas stifled a yawn. He’d been working around the clock to ensure this year’s grapes would be ready to pick soon. After a mercurial summer, they would either have one of the best vintages on their hands or the worst. He grimaced slightly. He knew bringing in his vintage wasn’t the only excuse for driving himself like a demon. That work ethic was buried deep in his fraught childhood.

‘Really, darling,’ came a dry voice to his right, ‘am I that boring?’

Nic forced his attention back into the room and looked down at his date. He quirked a mocking smile. ‘Never.’

His blonde companion squeezed his arm playfully, ‘I think the ennui is getting to you, Nic. You need to go to Buenos Aires and have some fun—I don’t know how you stand it in this backwater.’ She shuddered theatrically, then said something about going to the powder room and disappeared with a sexy sway to her walk.

Nic was relieved to be immune to this very feminine display, and watched as male heads swivelled to watch her progress. He shook his head ruefully and thanked his lucky stars that Estella’s presence tonight might at least temporarily stave off the more determined of the Mendoza man-eaters. He was in no mood to humour the mercenary women he attracted in droves. His last lover had screamed hysterically at him for an hour and accused him of having no heart or soul. He had no desire to head down that path again any time soon.

He could do without sex if that was going to be the outcome. If truth be told, his last sexual encounters had all felt curiously … empty. Satisfying on one level only. And as for a more long-term relationship? He certainly had no intention of even thinking about that. The toxic relationship of his parents had cautioned him from an early age. He was going to choose a long-term partner with extreme care and diligence. Naturally there would be a long-term partner at some point in the future; he had a valuable legacy to pass on to the next generation, and he had no intention of breaking the precious cycle of inheritance.

Just then he saw a figure appear in the doorway to the ballroom. Inexplicably his skin tightened over his bones and the back of his neck prickled—the same way it had just now outside the hotel, when he’d felt as if he was being watched.

He couldn’t make out the woman’s features. He could only make out long, long shapely pale legs and a glittering short black dress which outlined a slender figure. But something about her was instantly familiar. In his gut. Midnight-black wavy hair was swept over one shoulder—and then he saw her head turn. Even from where he stood he could see a stillness enter her frame, and then she started to walk … directly towards him.

Ridiculously Nic felt the need to turn and leave. But he stood his ground. As she came closer and closer, weaving through the crowd, suspicion grew and formed in his head. It couldn’t be, he told himself. It’s been years … she was in London.

He was barely aware of the hushed murmurs surrounding him, growing louder as the woman finally came to a stop just a few feet away. Recognition and incredulity warred in his head. Along with the realisation that she was stunning. She had always been beautiful—slightly ethereal—but she’d matured into a true beauty since he’d seen her last. She was statuesque and slender and curvaceous all at once. An intoxicating package.

Nic hadn’t even realised that he’d given her such a thorough examination until his eyes met hers and he saw the pink flush in her pale cheeks. It had a direct effect on his body, causing a hot throb of desire in his groin.

The ennui he’d just been teased about was long gone. Too many emotions and sensations were starting to fizz in his gut—the dominant ones being acrid betrayal and humiliation. Still, after all these years. He retreated behind a cold wall of anger. Anything to douse this very unwelcome stabbing of desire. His eyes narrowed and clashed with eyes so green they looked like jewels. He had to exert every ounce of his iron control not to be flung back into time and remember what it had felt like almost to drown in those eyes. The problem was he had drowned.

‘Madalena Vasquez,’ he drawled, not a hint of his loss of composure in his voice, ‘what the hell are you doing here?’

Maddie winced inwardly and fought to retain her composure. She could remember a time when he’d called her Maddie. The walk from the door to here had felt as if it had taken years, not seconds, and hadn’t been helped by the fact that her mother’s shoes were a size too big. She was aware of the hush surrounding them, and the whispers—none of which she could imagine were complimentary after the very public way her father had thrown her and her mother out eight years before.

Nicolás de Rojas’s mouth became a flat parody of a smile. ‘Please accept my condolences on the death of your father.’

Fire flashed up Maddie’s spine. ‘Let’s not pretend you care one iota,’ she hissed, mindful of the eavesdroppers. Nicolás de Rojas didn’t seem to be fazed by their audience at all, but the grief and futile anger she felt over her father’s death nearly choked her.

The man in front of her folded his arms across his formidable chest, making him look even more intimidating. Maddie’s skin itched uncomfortably where the dress revealed her back. Her hands were clenched to fists at her sides.

He shrugged negligently. ‘No, I can’t say I did care. But I can be polite at least.’

Maddie flushed at that. She’d seen in the papers that his father had died some years before. They were both products of generations who would have merrily danced on each other’s graves, yet it wasn’t in her to glory in someone’s death—even an enemy’s.

Awkwardly but sincerely, she said now, ‘I’m sorry about your father too.’

He arched a brow and his face tightened. ‘Are you going to extend that to my mother? She killed herself when she found out your mother and my father had had an affair for years … after your father told her.’

Maddie blanched to hear that Nicolás was aware of the affair. She saw in that instant how much anger his apparent civility was masking as his eyes flashed dangerously and white lines of tension bracketed his sensual mouth.

Her brain felt fuzzy. She shook her head. She’d had no idea her father had told his mother about the affair, or that she had taken her own life. ‘I didn’t know any of this …’

He dismissed her words with a slashing hand. ‘You wouldn’t, would you? You were so quick to leave and spend your family fortune running around Europe with your wastrel of a mother.’

Maddie felt sick. This was so much worse than she’d feared. She’d somehow naively imagined that she would say her few words to Nicolás de Rojas, he would respond with something at least civil, and that would be it. But the ancient feud between their families was alive and well and crackling between them—along with something else Maddie didn’t want to acknowledge.

Suddenly Nicolás de Rojas cast a quick glance around them and emitted a guttural curse. He took Maddie’s arm in one big hand. She was being summarily dragged to the other side of the room before she knew what was happening. He whirled her around to face him again in a quiet corner. This time all civility was stripped away, and his face was lean and stark with displeasure and anger.

Maddie yanked herself free and rubbed her tingling arm, determined not to let him see how shaken she was. ‘How dare you treat me like some recalcitrant child!’

‘I’ve asked you once already—what are you doing here, Vasquez? You’re not welcome.’

Maddie felt anger surge up at his sheer arrogance and remembered why she was there and what was at stake: her entire livelihood. She stepped forward, dropping her hand. ‘For your information I am just as welcome here as you, and I’ve come to tell you that my father didn’t give in to your pressure to sell and neither will I.’

Nicolás de Rojas sneered. ‘The only thing you own now is a piece of useless land full of gnarly vines. It’s an eyesore. Your estate hasn’t produced any wine of note for years.’

Maddie disguised the pain of knowing that her father had let it all go so spectacularly and spat back. ‘You and your father systematically pushed and squeezed him out of the market until he couldn’t possibly compete any more.’

His jaw clenched at that, and he bit out savagely, ‘It’s nothing more than was done to us time and time again. I’d love to tell you we spent all our time concocting ways to sabotage your business, but the Vasquez wines stopped selling because they were inferior—pure and simple. You did it to yourselves with no help from us.’

His words hit home with a dismaying ring of truth and Maddie took a hasty step back at his ferocity. She saw his eyes flash indignantly. Her reaction had more to do with his proximity and its effect on her body, and more disturbingly on her memories, than with his anger. She couldn’t halt a vivid flashback to when she’d pressed herself so close against him she could feel every taut sinew and muscle. And the evidence of his arousal for her. It had been intoxicating, thrilling. She’d wanted him so badly she’d been begging him to—

‘Here you are!’

Nic growled at the woman who had just appeared by their sides, ‘Not now, Estella.’

Maddie sent up silent thanks for the interruption and cast a quick glance to see the gorgeous blonde who had been with Nicolás outside the hotel. She backed away but Nicolás grabbed her arm again.

‘Estella, wait for me at the table,’ he bit out.

The young woman looked from him to Maddie with wide eyes, and then whistled softly before walking away, shaking her head. Maddie dimly thought that she seemed very easy-going for a lover, but then Nicolás was clamping his hands on her arms. Angrily she pulled herself free again, feeling very raw after that too-vivid memory. She was vaguely aware of her dress slipping down over one shoulder as she pulled away, and saw Nicolás’s eyes go there for a split second before something hot flashed in the blue depths.

Maddie spoke in a rush to stop herself responding to that look—which she must have imagined. This man felt nothing for her except hatred, pure and simple. ‘I came to tell you that I’m back and I won’t be selling the Vasquez estate. Even if I was do you really think I’d sell to a de Rojas after all we’ve been through? I’d burn it to the ground first. I intend to restore the Vasquez estate to its full glory.’

Nicolás stood tall, and then he barked out an incredulous laugh, head thrown back, revealing the strong column of his throat. When he looked down again Maddie felt a weakness invading her lower body—and a disturbing heat.

He shook his head. ‘You must have done quite the number on your father before he died to get him to leave it to you. After you and your mother left and people heard of the affair, no one expected to see either of you back again. I think people would have expected him to leave it to a dog on the street rather than either one of you.’

Maddie’s hands clenched. Pain bloomed inside her to think of that awful time and how angry her father had been—justifiably so. She gritted out, ‘You have no idea what you’re talking about.’

It was as if he didn’t even hear her, though. He continued easily. ‘It was common knowledge your father didn’t have a peso to his name by the time he died. Is your mother’s Swiss financier husband financing this whim?’ His jaw tightened. ‘Or perhaps you’ve bagged yourself a rich husband? Did you find one in London? You were frequenting the right clubs the last time I saw you.’

Maddie’s insides burned with indignation. Her hands clenched even harder. ‘No, my mother is not financing anything. And I don’t have a rich husband, or boyfriend or lover. Not that it’s any concern of yours.’

Mock shock and disbelief crossed Nicolás’s face. ‘You mean to tell me that the spoiled Vasquez princess thinks she can waltz back home and turn a bankrupt wine estate around with no help or expertise? Is this your new hobby because the Cannes yacht parties were becoming boring?’

Maddie felt the red tide of rage rise within her. He had no idea how badly she’d fought to prove herself to her father —to prove that she could be as good as any man … as good as her poor dead brother. She’d never have that chance now, because he was dead too. And she would not let the legacy she’d been bequeathed die with her. She had to prove that she could do this. She would not let another man stand in her way as her father had.

Passion resonated in her voice. ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying, de Rojas. Stay out of my way and don’t expect a “For Sale” sign to go up—ever.’

Just as Maddie was backing away, wishing she wouldn’t have to present him with her naked back, he said chillingly, ‘I’ll give you two weeks until you run screaming out the door. You have no idea what it takes to run a successful wine business. You never worked a day in the vineyard while you were growing up. It’s been years since Vasquez produced a wine worth mentioning, and your father got carried away with his overpriced wines. You’re in over your head, Vasquez, and when you realise that it won’t matter what price tag you put on that sign because I’ll match it. Purely because I would relish knowing that your family is gone from here for good.’

Maddie hid the dart of hurt; he knew that she’d never worked a day in the vineyard because she’d told him once. It had been intimate information which would now be used against her.

He took a step closer and said chillingly, ‘So you see, eventually that estate will become part of the de Rojas brand … and by denying it you’re merely prolonging your own misery. Just think—within a week you could be back in London, sitting in the front row of a fashion show, with enough money to keep you satisfied for a long time. I’ll personally see to it that you have no cause to return here ever again.’

Maddie shook her head and tried to swallow the terrifying feeling of stepping off a ledge into the great unknown. She was hurt at the extent of this man’s hostility. It hurt more than it should, and that scared her to death.

She couldn’t help the emotional huskiness of her voice. ‘This is my home—just as much as it’s yours—and you will have to carry my dead body out before you get me to leave.’

Maddie was bitterly aware, despite her little assertion, that everything he said was right. Apart from his perception of what her life was like. Of that he had no idea, and she wasn’t about to enlighten him.

She backed away further and said, ‘Don’t come near my property, de Rojas … you or any of your people. You’re not welcome.’

He smiled mockingly. ‘I admire the act, Vasquez, and I look forward to seeing how long you can play the part.’

Maddie finally wrenched her gaze away from his and stalked off—but not before she almost stumbled in the too-big shoes. Gritting her teeth, she prayed silently all the way to the door that she would at least retain the dignity of not losing a shoe in front of the insufferably arrogant de Rojas and the gobsmacked crowd.

Maddie held her head high, and it was only when she finally reached her father’s battered Jeep in the car park and locked herself inside that shock hit her and she shook uncontrollably for long minutes.

The awful reality was that he was right—she was on a hiding to nothing, trying to make their estate work again. But she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to try. Her father had made long-overdue amends with Maddie, and even though it had come so late, Maddie had always clung to the hope that she would hear from her father. She would have returned here years ago if he’d welcomed her back. For as long as she could remember she’d wanted nothing more than to work on the estate.

When she’d received the heartfelt letter from her ill father, with his outpouring of regret for his actions, Maddie hadn’t been able to help but respond to his plea to come home to try to save their estate from oblivion.

Maddie’s relationship with her father had never been close. He’d always made it clear he wanted sons, not a daughter, and had firmly believed that a woman’s place was in the home and not in the business of winemaking. But he’d made up for a lifetime of dismissiveness while on his deathbed, when he’d realised he might lose everything.

Maddie had been hoping and praying she’d make it home in time to see him, but he’d passed away while she was in the air on her initial flight to Buenos Aires. His solicitor had met her with the news, and she’d gone straight from the airport in Mendoza to his private and lonely funeral in the small family graveyard in the grounds of their estate.

She hadn’t even been able to get in touch with her mother, who was on a cruise somewhere with her fourth husband, who was some ten years her junior. She felt very alone now, when faced with the tangible animosity of Nicolás de Rojas and the seemingly insurmountable task of taking on the Vasquez estate.

Legend had it that Maddie’s and Nicolás de Rojas’s ancestors had been two Spanish friends, immigrants who’d made the long journey to Argentina to make new lives for themselves. They’d committed to setting up a vineyard together but something had happened—a woman had been involved: a love affair gone wrong and a bitter betrayal. As revenge Maddie’s forefather had vowed to ruin the de Rojas name. So he’d founded Vasquez wines in direct competition and built it up right next door.

Vasquez wines had become ridiculously successful, decimating the de Rojas name, thus ensuring that the feud thrived and deepened as each generation fought for dominance and revenge. Violence between the families had been habitual, and once a member of the de Rojas family had even been murdered—although it had never been proved that the culprit had been a Vasquez.

Reversals in fortune had happened through the years, but by the time Maddie had been born the two estates had been almost neck and neck in terms of success. The generations-old dark cloud of hostility between the families seemed to have settled into an uneasy truce. In spite of the relative peace, though, Maddie had grown up knowing that she would be punished if she was caught even looking in the direction of the de Rojas vineyard.

Her cheeks stung with colour now when she recalled Nicolás’s jeering ‘princess’. He’d only ever really seen her on the few social occasions when their families had been forced to mix, when hosts had nervously ensured that they didn’t actually mingle.

Her mother had used those opportunities to parade Maddie in the latest fashions, forcing her naturally tom-boyish and bookish daughter into the mould of the fashionable daughter she’d really wanted. Maddie’s beautiful mother had wanted a confidante, not a child.

Maddie had been so mortified and uncomfortable in those situations that she’d done her best to fade into the background, while at the same time being aware of the very taboo fascination she felt for Nicolás Cristobal de Rojas, six years her senior, who even as a teenager had exuded unmistakable arrogance and virility. The tension and distance between their families had only made him more fascinating and alluring.

Then, as soon as she’d turned twelve, she’d been sent to boarding school in England and had only returned home for the holidays. She’d lived for those few months, and had endured her mother’s determination to parade her as if she was a doll just because it meant she could catch illicit glimpses of Nicolás de Rojas at the annual polo matches or the few social occasions their families shared. She’d look out of her bedroom window and sometimes would see him far in the distance on his horse as he inspected the neighbouring vineyard. To her, he’d looked like a golden-haired god. Strong and proud.

Whenever she’d seen him socially he’d always been surrounded by girls. Her mouth twisted when she thought of the beautiful blonde he’d so casually dismissed just now. Evidently nothing had changed there …

Eight years ago the uneasy truce between their families had exploded into bitterly fresh enmity and had shown Maddie the real depth of hatred between them. The fact that she’d actually challenged Nicolás’s perception of her for a few days in time was something she had to forget. Because it had been undone as quickly as it had been done. What would someone like him be more likely to believe? A lifetime of propaganda and erroneous impressions? Or the briefest of moments fuelled by lust which had quickly been soured for ever?

Maddie shook her head and forced her trembling hand to start up the engine. She had just enough diesel to take her back to the small town of Villarosa, about thirty minutes outside Mendoza. No doubt someone of Nicolás’s standing had a suite in the palatial hotel tonight, where he would be accompanied by his long-legged golden companion, but Maddie had nowhere to go except a crumbling homestead where the electricity had been cut off months ago and where she and a loyal skeleton staff depended on an ancient generator for power.

Maddie swung out of the hotel car park and reflected miserably that there must be plenty of de Rojas ancestors laughing down at her predicament right now.

CHAPTER TWO

NIC was stuck in a trance. All he could see in his mind’s eye was the bared expanse of pale, slim back and the tumble of jet-black hair against her skin as Madalena Vasquez walked away. She’d stumbled slightly in her shoes, and it had made her look achingly vulnerable for a moment—before she’d recovered and swept out of the ballroom with all the hauteur of a queen. She’d had no right to look affronted at his taunting ‘princesss’, for that was what she had always been.

When she’d been much younger she’d reminded him of a fragile porcelain doll, and he hated to admit it now but she’d always fascinated him with her unusually pale colouring and green eyes. There had been moments—the memory of which burned him now for his naivety—when he’d believed she’d been uncomfortable in their social milieu, when she’d looked almost sick as her mother pushed her to the fore. He’d sensed that beneath the delicate exterior lurked something much more solid.

Nic’s mouth firmed. Well, he had first-hand experience of exactly how solid she was beneath that ethereal beauty. As if he needed to be reminded of the kind of person she was. Once she’d challenged his preconceptions of her, but it had all been an act.

She’d shared her mother’s temptress nature—an earthy sensuality that could ensnare the strongest of men. His heart thumped hard. It had ensnared his father before him, and then, a generation later, him. She’d only been seventeen. Humiliation burned Nic at recalling it, and he couldn’t halt the flood of memories—not so soon after seeing her close up and in the flesh for the first time in years.

One evening he’d been inspecting the vines which were closest to the Vasquez estate; they always had to be ever vigilant in case of sabotage. That particular evening Nic had been weary and frustrated … weary of his mother’s constant melancholy—never properly diagnosed as the depression it had been—and his father’s caustic cruelty and habitual violence. At the dinner table his father had been drunkenly ranting about how the Vasquez run of success was threatening their sales. Nic had always firmly believed you made your own success, but, constrained by his authoritarian father, he hadn’t been able to implement his own ideas.

Something had made Nic look up to the small hill which acted as a natural boundary between the two estates, and he’d seen a feminine figure with long black hair astride a huge stallion. Madalena Vasquez. Looking right at him.

His weariness had morphed instantly into burning irrational anger—at her for making him think about her, wonder about her, when she was forbidden. She also represented the dark and tangled feud which he had never really understood.

The supercilious image she presented on her horse had only galvanised him further and, giving in to an urge stronger than he’d been able to resist, Nic had spurred his horse to a canter and headed straight for her—only to see her whirl around and disappear.

He could still taste the urgency thrumming in his blood eight years later—to catch her and see her up close. Never once in their lives had they been allowed to speak to one another. Although he’d seen the way she would look at him from a distance and then glance away with artful shyness.

Finally he’d caught another glimpse of her, low down over her horse, hair streaming in the wind. She’d been cutting through the landscape like a bullet. With increasing urgency he’d thundered after her. It had been on the very edge of both their estates that he’d eventually seen her riderless horse, tied to a tree. She’d come to a remote part of their land where orchards had been planted. And then he’d seen her standing in a clearing of trees, as if she’d known he’d follow her.

More mesmerised by her flushed cheeks and that glossy fall of hair than he’d cared to admit, Nic had swung off his horse and come to stand in front of her. His anger had dissolved like snow on a hot stone. The very forbidden nature of what they were doing had infused the air around them.

‘Why did you follow me?’ she’d asked suddenly, her voice low and husky.

Nic had spoken on an unthinking reflex. ‘Perhaps I just wanted to see the Vasquez princess up close.’

In that instant she went white as a ghost, her eyes like two huge wounded emeralds.

She backed away and Nic put out his hands, instantly contrite. ‘Wait. Stop. I don’t know why I said that … I’m sorry.’ He took a breath. ‘I followed you because I wanted to … and because I think you wanted me to.’

She’d flushed pink then, the colour rushing into her cheeks dramatically. Without even being aware of it Nic reached out a hand and touched her cheek, fascinated by the way her emotions showed so clearly, feeling its satiny texture beneath his callused palm. A shudder of pure longing went through him—so strong he nearly shook.

She stepped back, biting her lip, looking tortured. ‘We shouldn’t be here … If anyone sees us …’

Nic saw a tremor go through her slender frame, the way her young breasts pushed against the material of her shirt. Jodhpurs encased long, slim thighs.

He struggled with his control, waves of heat building inside him. She’d speared him with a defiant look then, which confirmed his suspicions that she wasn’t as delicate as she had always appeared—as if her little gallop through the wilderness of their lands hadn’t already told him that.

‘I’m not a princess. I’m not like that. I hate being paraded in public like some kind of mannequin. It’s my mother … she wishes I was more like her. They won’t even let me go out riding unsupervised. I have to sneak out when they’re busy …’

Nic saw her gaze fall to his mouth and her cheeks pinken again. Power and testosterone flooded his body, and he smiled wryly. ‘I spend practically every waking hour on a horse … working in the vineyard.’

She looked back up at him, but not before torturing him with an innocently hungry look at his mouth.

‘That’s all I ever wanted. But when my brother died my father found me helping to pick the grapes one day and sent me inside. He told me that if he ever caught me in the vineyard again he’d take his belt to me.’

Nic winced and his stomach clenched. He knew only too well what the wrath of a father felt like. Gruffly he said, ‘Your brother died a few years ago, didn’t he?’

Madalena looked away, swallowing visibly before saying, ‘He died in an accident when they were crushing the grapes. He was only thirteen.’

‘I’m sorry.’ And then he asked, a little wistfully, ‘You were close?’

She looked back, her eyes suspiciously bright. ‘I adored him. Our father was … is … prone to rages. One day I angered him, and he would have hit me but Alvaro stepped in and took it. My father wouldn’t stop hitting him, enraged at being shown up by his own son. He was only eight at the time …’

Her eyes were swimming with tears. Nic had been the recipient of many a beating in his own time. Acting on an instinct too powerful to resist, he reached out and pulled her to him, enfolding her slim body in his, wrapping his arms around her. The need to comfort her was overwhelming, and completely alien for someone like him who generally held people at arm’s length.

She was a complete stranger to him in so many ways, but in that moment he felt a deep kinship. After long moments she pulled back, and with the utmost reluctance Nic let her go.

She said shakily, ‘I should go … they’ll be looking for me …’

She turned and Nic reached out, gripping her arm with a desperate feeling in his belly. She looked back and he said, ‘Wait … meet me here again tomorrow?’

The world seemed to stop turning for an infinitesimal moment, and Nic braced himself for a mocking laugh—some indication that he’d completely misread those few moments.

But Madalena’s cheeks flushed red and she said huskily, ‘I’d like that.’

They met every day for a week—stolen moments in that secret place where time seemed to be suspended in a bubble and where inhibitions fell away. Nic spoke to her of things he’d never told another soul as easily as if he hadn’t experienced years of emotional isolation. Each day he became more and more consumed by Madalena Vasquez. More and more entranced with her delicate beauty, which he’d discovered hid an earthy sensuality, driving him senseless with growing desire. Yet he managed not to touch her after that first day, when he’d pulled her into his arms to comfort her.

The depth of his need scared him, and the sensual and sexual tension building between them tipped over on that last day. When Nic arrived to find Maddie waiting, he didn’t speak and nor did she. The air quivered and vibrated with awareness around them, and then she was in his arms before he’d stretched them out to pull her into them.

His mouth was on hers, and she was clutching him as if she were drowning. He sank a hand into her hair. It felt like liquid silk. He felt her legs shaking against his and slowly they lay down on the downy grass under the shade of the trees, oblivious to their idyllic surroundings. Heat consumed Nic so much that his hand trembled as he fumbled with the buttons on her blouse.

He was no callow, inexperienced youth, but he felt like one as she lay back and looked at him from under long, dark lashes, her cheeks stained red. When he’d opened her shirt and undid her bra to uncover pale breasts tipped with tight pink nipples, he nearly lost it completely.

He was drunk on her by then—drunk on the taste of those sweet breasts, and her soft mewling sounds of response and rolling hips—so he didn’t hear anything until she tensed in his arms.

They both looked up at the same moment to see grim figures on horseback, staring down at them. It all became a blur as Nic scrambled to cover Maddie and she stood up behind him. Then they were both hauled unceremoniously out of the clearing by their respective estate employees and brought home …

‘Hello? Earth to Nicolás?’

Nic flinched now, as if stung, and looked down to see Estella staring up at him.

She was holding two glasses of champagne. She handed one to him and said, ‘Here. Looks like you could do with this.’

He was feeling incredibly raw and exposed, but he schooled his features and took the drink, restraining himself from downing it in one go.

‘So, was that woman really one of the Vasquez family? I thought I might have to get a hose to cool things down between you.’

‘She’s the last Vasquez. She’s come back to take over the family business,’ Nic bit out tautly, wanting to rid himself of the potent images.

‘That’s interesting …’ Estella mused in a far too innocent voice. ‘You’re the last in your line too …’

Nic glowered at Estella. ‘The only thing interesting about it is that she’ll be forced to sell that estate to me and we’ll finally be rid of the Vasquez family for good.’

With tension radiating from his tall form he strode away from her and the speculative look on her face. The last thing Nic needed was someone analysing his encounter with Madalena Vasquez. And the last thing the de Rojas estate needed was for its name to be dragged back down into the mire of rumour and innuendo and a resumption of ancient hostilities. The sooner Madalena Vasquez realised the futility of her position and how unwelcome she was, the better for everyone.

‘What the hell is he up to?’ Maddie muttered to herself, and turned the silver embossed invitation over and back again, as if it might contain a booby trap.

The message was written on one side and simple.

You are cordially invited to a private tasting of this year’s finest wines from the world-renowned de Rojas Estate.

Saturday, 7p.m., Casa de Rojas, Villarosa, Mendoza.

Black Tie.

The invitation had arrived with that day’s post, interrupting Maddie as she waded through her father’s papers.

She heard a noise and looked up from where she was sitting at her father’s study desk to see Hernan come in. He was their oldest and most loyal employee, her father’s viticulturist, and his own father had been the viticulturist before him. He and his wife, Maria, who was the housekeeper, were both working for board alone, even though Maddie had told them she couldn’t be sure when they might get paid again.

Her father’s head winemaker had long since gone, and Maddie knew that she might have to take over that role until she could afford to hire someone new. Fresh from a degree in Oenology and Viticulture, she was lacking in practical experience but had a burning love for the industry and craved the opportunity. Even if it was a poisoned chalice.

She swallowed the emotion she felt at the evidence of Hernan’s loyalty now and handed the card to him. He read it silently and handed it back with an inscrutable look on his face.

Maddie just arched a questioning brow.

After a long moment the old man said, ‘You do know that if you accept the invitation you will be the first Vasquez to be invited onto de Rojas land since as far back as I can remember?’

Maddie nodded slowly. This was huge. And she had no idea what he was playing at, but she had to admit she was intrigued to see the famed estate.

To her shock and surprise Hernan shrugged lightly. ‘Perhaps you should go. Times have changed, and things can’t go on as they always have. He’s up to something. Of that I have no doubt. Nic de Rojas is infinitely more intelligent than his father, or even his father before him, so he is a dangerous enemy to have … but perhaps an enemy you know …?’ He trailed off.

Maddie looked at the card thoughtfully. It had been two weeks exactly since her tumultuous meeting with Nicolás de Rojas, and she still felt shaky when she thought of it. Going through her father’s papers since then had shown her the true ugly extent of how far Nicolás de Rojas was willing to go to to get his hands on their estate.

Her father had been bombarded with letter after letter advising him to sell up. Some had been cajoling, almost friendly in tone, and others had been downright threatening. They’d all been issued by the de Rojas solicitor but signed off with the arrogant Nicolás de Rojas scrawl. There’d even been a threatening letter dated the day her father had died.

As much as Maddie wanted to rip up the invitation and send it back in pieces to Nicolás, she knew she couldn’t afford to isolate herself now. She needed to see what she was up against.

The party was the next evening.

She put the invitation in a drawer and stood up resolutely, clamping the gaucho hat she’d been wearing back on her head. ‘I’ll think about it. In the meantime we need to check the eastern vineyard again. It looks like our best prospect of a harvest this year.’

‘You mean our only prospect,’ Hernan said darkly as they walked out to the battered vineyard Jeep.

Maddie tried not to let the sensation of sheer panic overwhelm her. It was far too frequent for her liking, and not helped one bit by the realisation that the monumental task of harvesting their one chance of a wine that year was going to fall to her and Hernan and whatever friends and relations he could persuade to help with picking the grapes.

Her father had been a staunch old-school-style winemaker, eschewing wholesale modern methods. That was all very well when you were producing top-of-the-line expensive wines in tandem with more affordable table wines, but in later years her father had all but stopped producing for the more accessible market.

Their one tiny glimmer of hope was in the grapes which had somehow survived the neglect of her father to flourish and ripen on the eastern slopes of the vineyard. These were the Sauvignon grapes which made the distinctive white wine which had put the Vasquez name on the map—particularly because red wines were more common in Argentina.

If they could harvest them, and assure investors of the quality and quantity, then perhaps someone would give them the money they needed to get back on track—or at the very least to be able to pay the basic bills again.

Nic was tense as he stood in the open-air courtyard in the middle of his hacienda. His focus was on the imposing entrance doorway, which was still admitting a long line of glittering guests who had travelled from all over the world for this tasting. Hundreds of candles flickered in huge lanterns, and waiters dressed immaculately in black and white moved among the guests offering wine and canapés. But all Nic could think was … would she come? And why had he asked her, really?

Nic told himself it was because he wanted her gone. His belly clenched. It went much deeper than that, and he knew it. Really, what he’d wanted since eight years ago, and since he’d had that electric glimpse of her in that club in London, was to see her broken and contrite. To see that pale perfection undone. To see her as humiliated as he’d felt. To see her as exposed. She’d lured him to expose himself and he’d stupidly believed the act she’d put on.

Her words resounded in his head. ‘I was bored. OK? I wanted to seduce you because you were forbidden to me. It was exciting …’

A smug voice came from his left. ‘It’ll only be a matter of time now before you can buy out the Vasquez estate.’

Nic took his eye off the door for a moment and looked at his solicitor, who had been a good friend of his parents. His mother’s friend more than his father’s. He was a small, overweight man, with mean, calculating eyes. Nic had never especially liked him, but it had been easier to retain him than to let him go after his father’s death. He made a mental note to instruct his assistant to seek out new legal representation. He’d do his duty and give Señor Fiero a generous retirement package.

A movement at the door caught the corner of Nic’s eye, and he looked back to see Madalena Vasquez entering. The instantaneous effect was almost laughable. His whole body tautened, and an urgent need to see her up close again rushed through him, shocking him with its force. He’d never felt that for another woman. Not even a lover.

From here she looked even more stunning than she had two weeks ago. Her hair was up and she was wearing a long midnight-blue sheath. Strapless, it showed off the delicate lines of her collarbone and shoulders. The gently muscled strength of her arms. There was something slightly odd about the dress, though, that he couldn’t put his finger on. Much like the dress she’d worn the other night in Mendoza, it was as if it didn’t fit perfectly. As if it wasn’t hers.

He was so used to seeing women immaculately turned out that he could spot the slight anomaly a mile away, and it didn’t fit with what he would have expected of Madalena Vasquez.

‘Who is that? She looks familiar.’

‘That,’ Nic said tightly, irrationally not liking the fact that his solicitor was looking at her too, ‘is Madalena Vasquez. She’s home and taking over the family estate.’

The solicitor laughed cruelly. ‘That place is a mess. She’ll be begging you to buy her out.’

Nic moved away from his solicitor and towards Madalena. He couldn’t fathom the urge he felt to turn around and punch the older man. It was visceral and disturbing, and the remnants of it lingered as he drew closer and saw that wide green gaze settle on him. Pink flooded her cheeks and he could see the faintest bruised colour under her eyes—signs of fatigue. His chest constricted. Once he’d believed in that artifice, but it was a trick to incur sympathy learnt from her mother. To make a man believe that she was as innocent as she looked. When she was rotten to the core.

Nevertheless his rogue body could not be dictated to by his mind. Desire was hot and instantaneous.

He put a smooth smile on his face and tried to ignore the increasing heat in his body. ‘Welcome to my home.’

Maddie tried not to let Nicolás de Rojas see how affected she was just by watching him walk towards her. She felt like snorting incredulously. Home was a woeful understatement for this seriously palatial house. Once, a long time ago, her home had been as grand, but now it was a crumbling shell.

She didn’t trust his urbane charm for a second. His eyes were like shards of ice and she shivered imperceptibly. Forgetting her resolve to appear nothing but aloof, she blurted out, ‘Why did you invite me here?’

Quick as a shot he answered, ‘Why did you come?’

Maddie flushed, all of her reasons for coming feeling very flimsy and transparent now. She should have just sent the invitation back in tiny pieces as she’d intended. But she hadn’t.

She squared her shoulders. ‘I came because it’s been two weeks and I want to let you know that I’ve still no intention of going anywhere.’

Nicolás tipped his head slightly. She barely saw him make the gesture, and then a man appeared at his side.

‘Yes, sir?’

‘Madalena Vasquez, I’d like to introduce you to my house manager, Geraldo. He will show you around and see that you have everything you need. If you wouldn’t mind excusing me? I have some new guests to attend to.’

And just like that he had turned and was walking away. Maddie felt inexplicably bereft, dropped …

The intensity of emotion he aroused so effortlessly was still high. Maddie cursed herself for allowing any hint of vulnerability through. She had to be strong enough to withstand Nicolás de Rojas and his brand of arrogance or she’d never survive.

She turned to the man waiting by her side with a big forced smile. ‘Thank you.’

Maddie’s head was spinning by the time Geraldo, who had proved to be a charming host, showed her back into the main courtyard, which was now thronged with people. Men were in tuxedos and women glittered in long dresses and jewels.

The reality of the sheer opulence she’d just seen was a little hard to take in. The home itself—the few main rooms she’d been shown—was exquisitely furnished but also comfortable. Accessible. It was a home. And that had affected her deeply. Her own home had always been more like a cold and austere show house, full of dusty antiques. Unfortunately all of them had long since been sold to fund her father’s downward spiral.

‘I’ll leave you here now … if that’s okay?’

Maddie swung her gaze back to the pleasant house manager and realised he was waiting for her answer. ‘Of course. You must be busy. I’m sorry to have taken you away from your duties.’

He said urbanely, ‘It was a pleasure, Señorita Vasquez. Eduardo, who is our head winemaker, will see to it that you taste from the best of our selection of wines tonight.’

Another equally pleasant man was waiting to escort Maddie over to where the wine-tasting tables had been set up. It was only when she looked up and caught the coolly sardonic expression on Nicolás’s face, where he stood head and shoulders above the crowd across the room, that she understood she was being effectively herded in exactly the direction he wanted her to go. And being shown exactly what he wanted her to see.

The transparency of his actions and the way she’d almost forgotten what was happening here galled her. So she merely skated her own gaze past his and made Eduardo the focus of her attention as he explained the various wines to her.

After a few minutes Maddie managed to take advantage of someone coming up to ask Eduardo a question and escape, turning instinctively away from the direction where Nicolás de Rojas was holding court with a rapt crowd. She hated being so aware of where he was at any moment, as if some kind of invisible cord linked her to him. And yet, a small snide voice reminded her, as soon as puberty had hit she’d had that awareness of him as a man.

She walked through a silent, dimly lit room full of luxuriously stuffed couches and rosewood furniture and out onto a blissfully quiet decked area which hugged the outside of the house. Little pools of golden light spilled out onto the ground, and Maddie went and curled her hands over the wooden fence which acted as a perimeter.

The strains of a jazz band playing for the very select crowd wafted through on the breeze. She smiled cynically. Nicolás de Rojas could have stopped her at the front door and she would have already been in awe of his screaming success and wealth.

The wide gravelled drive, the rows upon rows of well-tended fertile vines and gleaming outbuildings had been enough of a display. That was what she wanted for her own estate—to see it flourishing as it had when she was a young girl, with rows of vines full of plump sun-ripened grapes …

She heard a noise and whirled around. Her heart thumped hard in her chest at the sight of Nicolás de Rojas in the doorway of the room behind her, shoulders blocking out the light, hands in pockets. He was so rakishly handsome that for a moment she forgot about everything and could only see him.

Maddie called up every shred of self-control and smiled. But it was brittle. Seeing Nicolás’s house up close like this had affected her far more deeply than she liked to admit.

‘Did you really think that showing off your success would make me scurry to the nearest airport with my tail between my legs?’

His jaw was gritted but he stepped out of the doorway, making Maddie’s breath hitch in her throat when his scent reached out and wound around her. She couldn’t back away. The wooden posts were already digging into her soft flesh.

‘It must feel very dull here after the bright lights of London … not to mention the ski slopes of Gstaad. Aren’t you missing the season?’

Maddie flushed deep red. She smiled even harder, hiding the hurt at that particular memory. ‘I wouldn’t have had you down as a Celebrity Now! reader, Mr de Rojas.’

Maddie had long since berated herself that she should have been suspicious when her flighty mother had expressed a desire to see her—even offering to fly her out to meet her in the wealthy ski resort for a holiday. This was the same mother who had refused to help Maddie out because she believed that she’d already sacrificed enough for her daughter.

As soon as she’d arrived at the ski resort it had become apparent that her mother needed her daughter to help foster an image of dutiful motherhood. She’d been intent on seducing her current husband, who was divorced, but a committed and devoted father. Maddie had been too disappointed and heartsore to fight with her mother, and had given in to a cloying magazine shoot in which for all the world they’d appeared the best of friends.

Nicolás answered easily, ‘I happened to be on a plane on my way home from Europe. The air hostess handed me the wrong magazine, but when I saw who was gracing the cover I couldn’t resist reading all about your wonderful relationship with your mother and how you’ve both moved on so well from the painful split with your father.’

Maddie felt sick. She’d read the article too, and couldn’t believe she’d been so hungry for affection that she’d let her mother manipulate her so crassly. She pushed the painful reality of her mother’s selfishness aside.

‘This evening was a wasted exercise on your part, de Rojas. You’ve merely made me even more determined to succeed.’

The fact that he thought he had her so neatly boxed up and judged made fresh anger surge up inside Maddie.

‘I’ve just spent two weeks in a house with no electricity, and as you can see I’m not running screaming for the nearest luxury health spa. Now, if you don’t mind, it’s late and I’ve got to be up early in the morning.’

Maddie gathered up her dress to stalk off, but at that moment one of her oversized shoes came off and she stumbled. A strong hand closed around one bare arm to steady her and the sensation was electric.

Nicolás didn’t let her go, though. She was whirled around to face him again, one shoe on, one shoe off.

He was frowning down at her. ‘What do you mean no electricity?’

Maddie was used to being considered tall, but right now she felt positively petite. Bitterness laced her voice at being made to feel so vulnerable, when she had no doubt that was exactly what this man had intended all along. ‘We’ve been using an ancient generator to get electricity in our house since they cut my father off months ago—when he stopped paying the bills.’

Nicolás shook his head. He looked shocked. ‘I didn’t know it was that bad.’

Maddie tried to pull her arm back but his grip was firm. Panic at her helpless physical reaction galvanised her to say, ‘As if you care. You were too busy signing off on your solicitor’s letters, doing your utmost to get a dying man to sell up. Do you know that he received the last letter the day he died?’

Now Nicolás looked confused. His hand tightened. ‘What are you talking about? I never signed any letters. Any correspondence between my family and yours stopped when my father died. I was too busy rebuilding our own brand and renovating the estate and house.’

‘You can spout all the lies you like, de Rojas. This evening was a mistake. I’ve let down every generation of my family and my father by coming here. It won’t happen again.’

Nicolás’s hand softened its grip on her arm and Maddie felt ridiculously disorientated, her anger dissipating like mist over a hill. His eyes were intense blue flames that communicated something base and carnal directly to her insides.

His voice was deep. ‘But you did come here tonight, and there’s something in the air … it brought us together before, and it’s still there.’

Maddie felt the sense of disorientation increase. She finally yanked her arm free from his grip, but his words were hurtling her back in time to when he had stood in front of her and said, ‘You’re nothing but a tempting tease. I was curious to know what the Vasquez princess tasted like and now I know—poisonous.’

The bitterness and anger of that exchange eight years ago was far too acute, eclipsing everything else. Maddie had not trusted herself with another man since then because of it. She’d held a part of herself private and aloof for fear of getting hurt again, or facing painful revelations. She had to push him back before he guessed how vulnerable she was.

She squared her shoulders and forced herself to look Nicolás dead in the eye. ‘I seduced you once, de Rojas. Did you really think this evening would induce me to try and seduce you again? Eight years isn’t enough time for you to get over your wounded ego?’

Nicolás stood tall, and she saw him pale beneath his tan. ‘You little bitch.’

CHAPTER THREE

MADDIE didn’t know where on earth she’d got the nerve to say those words when, if anything, they could be more legitimately levelled at her. She hadn’t got over what had happened eight years ago—not by a long shot.

She heard a rushing in her ears, but she ignored it and tossed her head. ‘Don’t worry. You won’t see me again. I think we can safely say this farce is over. I came tonight because I was curious to see what you were up to. You’ve seriously underestimated me.’

She was turning away again when she forgot that she still had one shoe off. She stumbled into thin air, and would have fallen if Nicolás hadn’t caught her and hauled her back against him. One strong arm was wrapped around her ribcage, just under her breasts, and the other was across her shoulders. Adrenalin pumped through Maddie’s veins. She immediately tried to remove his arms but they were like steel bands. And they were completely alone.

She had an urge to shout out, but a hand came over her mouth as if he’d read her mind. Panic gripped her—not at the threat of violence but at the threat of something much more potent. The evidence of Nicolás de Rojas’s hardening body at her back was liquefying her insides. A silent scream sounded in Maddie’s head: No! Not this, please. He would expose her vulnerability in seconds if he touched her.

She bit down on the fleshy part of his hand and heard him curse—but not before she’d tasted the salty tang of his skin. Her belly swooped and fire danced along her veins. He moved her effortlessly in his arms and now she was facing him, his arms manacling her to his body, her hands behind her back. She was completely powerless. And, to her absolute disgust, the predominant thing she was feeling was excitement.

‘Let me go.’

He shook his head, eyes glittering down into hers. Maddie felt as if she’d completely lost her footing. Past and present, everything was mixing, and she felt seriously overwhelmed.

‘I’m not finished with you, Maddie.’

Maddie’s heart lurched painfully at hearing him use the diminutive of her name. She could remember with painful clarity telling him that she preferred Maddie to the more stuffy-sounding Madalena. He had touched her cheek and said, ‘Maddie it is, then …’

He smiled, and it was the smile of a predator, forcing Maddie back to the present moment. ‘One thing you should know is that if I’ve underestimated you, then you’ve seriously underestimated me. We have unfinished business—and ironically enough it’s got nothing to do with business.’

Before Maddie had even properly taken in his words or read his intent he’d hauled her even closer. His head descended and his hard mouth pressed against hers. For a second Maddie had no reaction except numb shock. And then sensation exploded behind her eyes—hot and urgent.

Desperately she tried to cling onto reality and not let that hot urgency take over her need to stay immobile and unresponsive. But she might as well have been hoping that the sun wouldn’t rise in the morning.

Being in this man’s arms again was like seeing a beacon of light strobing across a choppy ocean and reacting to it with an unthinking instinct to seek harbour. Maddie felt the inexorable and overpowering urge to follow it, even as everything rational was screaming at her to stop, pull herself free, not to react. But a much bigger part of her was aching all over with the effort it took not to react.

As if sensing her turmoil, Nic freed her hands and lifted his own to her head, fingers caressing her skull, angling her head so that he could better plunder her mouth. His tongue flicked against the closed seam of her lips and at that touch Maddie felt her resistance falling away. Her free hands hovered for a long moment. She knew in some dim place that she should use them to push him away, but when she put them between their bodies and felt the taut musculature of his torso underneath his thin shirt they clung … didn’t push.

He growled low in his throat at her capitulation and became bolder, his tongue prising open her soft lips to seek the hot interior of her mouth. The devastation of that simple intimacy made Maddie sway against him. She could feel her breasts crushed against the solid wall of his chest.

One of his hands was on her waist, digging into her flesh, anchoring her solidly against him. She could feel the bold thrust of his arousal against her belly, and between her legs she felt hot and moist.

The world was turning into a hot furnace of sensation and desperate wanting—and then suddenly a cool breeze was waking Maddie as if from a drugged trance and she was blinking up into Nic’s impassive face. It looked as if it was carved from stone. Maddie felt like jelly. Her mouth was swollen, her heart beating like a piston. Her hair was tumbling down over sensitised skin.

‘You …’ She couldn’t even formulate a word beyond that.

In a voice so cold it woke her up more effectively than anything else, Nic said, ‘What do you want to say, Maddie? You want me to believe this act? That I’ve effectively rendered you speechless with passion?’

A look crossed his face that was so bitter it took Maddie aback. For a moment she was distracted from her growing humiliation.

‘You forget that you already tried that once with me. I’m not stupid enough to fall for it again. You can’t, however, deny that you want me. As much if not more than when you were hot and trembling in my arms eight years ago. I could have taken you that day and you would have been with me every step of the way. You might have seduced me out of boredom, but there was nothing bored about your response then—or just now. And you’ve never been able to handle that reality.’

The sheer arrogance of his tone and expression revived Maddie from the fugue she’d been in. She moved out of his embrace with a jerky movement and saw dark colour flash along his cheekbones.

‘I am not interested in your hypotheses, or your take on the past. The past is in the past and that’s where it’ll stay. This …’ she waved a hand to encompass what had just happened ‘.is nothing but evidence that physical chemistry can be dismayingly arbitrary. That’s all.’

Nic smiled. ‘If I hadn’t stopped when I had I could be taking you right here, just feet away from one hundred guests, and I’d have had to put a hand over your mouth to stifle your screams of pleasure.’

The sheer carnality of his words made Maddie raise her hand—he’d pushed her too far.

Before it could connect to his smug face he’d caught it in a steel-fingered grip. Shock washed through Maddie in a wave. She’d never raised a hand to anyone in her life. The line of Nic’s mouth was impossibly grim.

‘I was merely proving that you’re no more in control of your desire for me now than you were eight years ago, no matter how much you tried to convince me that you’d found what we had done so abhorrent it made you physically ill. You came here tonight to test me as much as I tested you. My bed is free at the moment … you’re more than welcome to join me there and we can indulge this arbitrary chemistry until you’ve come to your senses and decided to sell the Vasquez estate to me.’

Maddie ripped her hand free of his grip and had to curb the urge to try and strike him again. His version of what had happened that cataclysmic afternoon was very different from hers. She knew she’d given him the impression that what they’d shared had disgusted her … and for a while she had found what they’d done abhorrent. But not for the reasons he obviously believed.

And she couldn’t tell him. As much as she hated him right now, telling him the truth would only expose her even more. He would know that that week had meant everything to her, that she hadn’t set out coldly to seduce him just for her amusement. There was no way she could disabuse him of that belief now. It was her only defence against him.

She stood very tall and said frostily, ‘You seem to have forgotten that your bed was busy enough only two weeks ago. I think I’ll pass, thanks.’

And then she turned and walked out.

To her intense relief he didn’t stop her. It was only when she got outside to the main door that Maddie realised that she was barefoot. She certainly wasn’t going to go back now for her shoes and risk seeing Nic again. She scrambled into the Jeep as soon as the valet brought it round, and as she saw the lights of the hacienda grow smaller in her rearview mirror she finally let out her breath.

She’d been a prize fool to think that Nic de Rojas wouldn’t bring up what had happened in the past. He was a very virile and proud man. She knew she’d damaged his ego then … and she shuddered now when she recalled the bitter look she’d seen cross his face just a short while ago. She’d had no idea it would all feel so fresh and unresolved between them.

Even though the events of eight years before had sent out violent ripples, she would have imagined that the actual week which had led to those events had faded in his memory. That the intervening years and the countless affairs he seemed to have had with beautiful women would have made Maddie’s innocent and gauche charms fade into insignificance …

The way he’d just kissed her, together with the memory of that week—those heady days when desire had tightened like a steel coil in her belly until she’d begged him to make love to her—made Maddie shake so much that she had to pull over on the hard shoulder or risk a crash. She put her head down on the steering wheel between her hands and tried to empty her mind, but it was impossible … the memories were too potent—especially after what had just happened.

She’d managed to evade her mother and father that day, and take a horse out riding on her own. She’d always instinctively hoped for a glimpse of Nic de Rojas on his own estate, and her heart had almost stopped when she’d seen him just metres away. The intensity on his face had scared her and she’d turned her horse to run, not even sure what she was running from. Perhaps it had been the delicious and illicit excitement thrumming through her blood.

She could remember looking back and seeing that he was following with that same intense expression—and her excitement had spiked to almost unbearable levels. Her whole body had gone on fire. The friction of the horse as it had surged powerfully between her legs had nearly made her cry out she was so oversensitised. By the time she’d reached the remote orchard which straddled both their estates her body had been as taut as a bowstring, humming for him.

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