LEO STEPPED BACK and surveyed the wooden wall, an unexpected pride swelling his chest. If he said so himself it looked rather professional. Sanding, filling and painting were proving to be unexpectedly soothing, each finished wall or window frame a tangible achievement in a way a successful deal or investment no longer seemed to be. Maybe that was because money was such an abstract thing. He didn’t exactly sit counting gold coins, had more than enough, even for his fairly lavish needs.
Leo put the paintbrush back on the tray and stretched before reaching for his task list, a wry grin curving his mouth as he scanned the typed list, complete with timings and required equipment. Anna had, with the help of her trusty notebook, worked out a plan. A plan, Leo had not failed to notice, which kept him at one side of the island and her at the other. Nor could he help noticing that she no longer broke for lunch, and although she joined Sancia, himself and the staff for dinner she was usually distracted, spending the meal making even more lists or researching fixtures and fittings rather than joining in the conversation. He had a strong suspicion she was avoiding him.
Como sea. Let her keep her distance. Sure, he had enjoyed the brief one-sided flirtation, had thought it might be amusing to—metaphorically at least—unbutton the terminally uptight doctor, but there were limits to even his amusement and those limits had been reached when Anna had rounded on him with a scornful expression he knew only too well. It was the same expression he saw on his parents’ faces. The expression he sometimes saw in the mirror.
Still, over the last few days he had almost reached a state of contentment. It was repetitive work, this washing, sanding, filling and painting, but it had an end goal. Each task added up to a whole, a newly restored bungalow. Well, an almost restored bungalow because along with the repainting of the outside Leo was making a list of all the more specialised tasks that needed doing: the dripping taps, the underperforming showers, the broken tiles, the holes in roofs.
Right now it was just he and Anna with their buckets and ladders and paintbrushes. At the start of next week they would be joined by the seasonal staff including three more groundsmen and, for a week, a plumber, a joiner and a builder. That would leave two weeks for any internal repainting, replacement of furniture and adding in all the extras Valentina and her friends would expect to find in a luxury hotel. Anna seemed to spend any time she wasn’t painting flicking through lifestyle blogs and upmarket magazines, every session resulting in even more copious notes and yet another list.
The full-time groundsman and maid were equally hard at work on the public and communal areas. With three separate beach bars as well as the main bar and restaurant, two lounges and the beautiful central pagoda, where the marriage ceremony was to be carried out, they had their work cut out and Maria, the maid, was volubly looking forward to the arrival of her seasonal counterparts to help share the load. The island might shut over the winter, but it still seemed like a particularly sparse skeleton staff when the off season was surely the time to refresh and repair?
How on earth had this place survived over the last few years? Sancia swung from relaxed to mildly concerned—on the surface anyway—but Leo occasionally saw a flash of worry in the dark eyes when yet another dozen items were added to Anna’s seemingly inexhaustible lists.
‘Here, Sancia sent this for you.’
A soft voice pulled him away from his thoughts and Leo turned, list still in hand, to see Anna standing under the shade of the overgrown copse of trees. His breath caught. Her mass of dark hair was pulled up into a ponytail, she wasn’t wearing a scrap of make-up and her cut-off denims and simple navy T-shirt were strictly utilitarian yet a quiver of attraction still ran through him.
His gaze dropped to the tray she clasped tightly in her hands. It held a plate heaped with a roll, sliced meat and fresh tomatoes and a bottle of beer.
Anna held it out towards him. ‘You missed lunch.’
Leo glanced at his watch. Sure enough it was nearly three. ‘I got a little carried away.’
‘Obviously.’ She took a step nearer, eyes crinkled as she looked critically at the walls. ‘It’s looking good though.’
‘Does that surprise you?’
‘Yes,’ she said and, jolted by surprise, Leo looked at her.
‘Okaaaay...’ he said slowly.
‘I thought you’d get bored after a couple of days, or you would spend most of your days lounging around on your boat, spend an hour with a paintbrush in your hand and expect us to fall at your feet in gratitude. But, you have more than pulled your weight.’ She took a visibly deep breath. ‘I was wrong.’
‘Sí.’ But he couldn’t bring himself to labour the point. She had good reasons for her misconceptions, reasons Leo himself had planted. He couldn’t blame her, just because for some reason he wanted her to look deeper. Wanted her to look beyond the playboy image and see what lay underneath—if anything lay beneath. He doubted it, but if there was anything there then surely Dr Anna Gray was the kind of woman to excavate it.
‘So.’ She hefted the tray up awkwardly. ‘Are you hungry?’
He was ravenous, he realised. Nothing like sheer physical labour to get a man’s appetite going. ‘Sí,’ he said again, taking the tray from her and heading over to the wrought-iron patio table each bungalow was furnished with, perfect for al fresco dining. This particular table was positioned to take advantage of the sea views and to get shelter from the midday sun and as Leo lowered himself onto the cool seat he realised how very hot and thirsty he was.
Anna shifted from foot to foot. ‘Okay, then, enjoy. I’ll just...’
‘Join me,’ he said, without realising he was going to extend the invitation. ‘Unless you have a pressing appointment with a paintbrush, that is?’
She pulled a face. ‘I am dreaming about paintbrushes.’
‘Then a break is probably just what the doctor ordered.’
She hesitated for a long moment before, with a nod, more an acknowledgement to herself than to him, she walked over to the table. ‘Probably.’
As she sat herself in the other chair Leo realised this was the first time they had been alone together in nearly a week, the first time since they had gone shopping for supplies and she had called him a liar.
‘I shouldn’t stay too long.’ She leaned forward, her head drooping into her hands, shoulders sagging in weariness. ‘I want to get the bungalow I’m on finished, and then I need to go through all Valentina’s plans and make sure we have ordered everything we need.’
‘Anna, have you ever heard the word delegate? Do you really think you can single-handedly renovate the entire island and be a wedding planner?’
She looked up at that. ‘Who else is there, Leo? If everything isn’t perfect then the island will be ruined, completely finished. God knows, it’s on its last legs as it is. But if we—if I—can pull this off then we can save the island, save my grandparents’ dream.’ She looked down at her hands. ‘It’s an incredible opportunity, but it’s so daunting. This is the most public wedding of the year, people are betting on which designer is making her dress and whether Valentina will wear a veil—it’s insane.
‘Add in one hundred and fifty guests, all arriving at once, the wedding that very evening followed by a huge party and then a week of celebrations. It’s a lot to deal with.’ She heaved a gusty sigh. ‘I know we still have three weeks, and thank goodness most of the seasonal staff are able to arrive a week earlier than Mama had originally asked them to, but there is still so much to do, just to make the island look presentable, let alone the actual wedding itself. Thank goodness Valentina paid a huge deposit. We need every penny.’
‘What was your mother thinking? To say yes to a wedding she clearly wasn’t ready for?’
Her face closed. ‘She didn’t think. She never does. She acts spontaneously and then expects someone else to sort out all the details. Me. She expects me to sort out the details while she pats my shoulder and tells me to relax and why can’t I be more like my sister?’
‘You have sisters?’ How had he not known this?
‘One sister.’ Her voice was tight. ‘Rosa. She’s a photographer. Travels around being all bohemian and socially conscious and doing exactly what she wants whenever she wants.’
Leo blinked, taken aback by the anger in Anna’s voice—the anger and the hurt. ‘You don’t get on, then?’ He’d always dreamed of a sibling growing up, of someone to share the burden of being a di Marquez. He adored Valentina, but they hadn’t been raised together, their relationship unknown to anyone outside their immediate family—and Anna. Leo didn’t know why he had blurted out the information to her. Not that it mattered; she hadn’t believed him anyway.
‘We’re very different. Right now Rosa is on a beach somewhere in South America being artistic and free while I have taken leave from my job—my respected and important job—to help out. But when Rosa does finally waltz up, my mother will treat her like the prodigal daughter. A calf is probably being fatted right now.’ The anger had faded. Now Anna just sounded sad. ‘I haven’t spoken to her in three years. Not since my grandfather’s funeral. Much as I could do with her help, I have to admit I’m dreading her actually being here.’
Leo took a swig of the beer then pushed the bottle over to her. ‘What happened?’
Taking the bottle with a faint smile, Anna set it before her, her fingers pulling at the label. ‘We’ve always seen the world differently, never been close. Things just came to a head when I was invited to spend a semester at Harvard as a visiting teacher. Rosa was in England for a few weeks following the funeral and I asked her to stay on in Oxford while I was away It was only for a few months. Dad had—has—some heart problems. They were talking about the possibility of surgery. But she said she had her own commitments. That he was an adult. That he had to slow down and take responsibility for himself.’
‘What did you do?’
‘What could I do? I couldn’t leave him. I said stuff, she said stuff, she left, we don’t speak. That’s it. Nothing exciting.’
‘He’s better now? You’re here after all.’
‘I text him every night to remind him to take his pills.’ She shook her head. ‘Maybe Rosa is right. Maybe I do have some kind of martyr complex. Look at me. Twenty-eight and I’m spending my leave working—unpaid and unthanked—for my mother. I spend my few leisure hours as my father’s PA and carer. It’s months since I went on a date, years really. I barely see my friends, spend most of my evenings working.’ Her voice was so quiet he could barely hear her, her eyes fixed on the sea. He wondered if she had forgotten his very existence. ‘Sometimes I wonder if this is it. This will be my life. In one way I’m so lucky, have achieved so much so young and yet even that doesn’t feel right. It wouldn’t matter if the new book was going well. At least I could be the academic wunderkind.’
Now she just looked defeated, her face almost grey, and Leo remembered how he’d felt when he first saw her. How he’d wondered what it would take to make her have fun, take that tired look off her face, make those blue eyes light up with laughter.
He’d also wondered what it would take to make those blue eyes light up with lust, how her face would look softened with desire. His blood began to thunder in his veins even as he shook the thought from his mind. Hands off, remember? Not his type—and he most definitely wasn’t hers.
‘Don’t you think that maybe you expect too much from yourself? Life isn’t about working from the moment you get up. It’s not just the achievements that count...’
‘It’s not just about partying either. Not everyone has a title and a trust fund. Not everyone values those. There’s more to life than casinos and boats and selfies, Leo. I couldn’t bear to live such a shallow existence.’
* * *
As soon as she said the words Anna wanted to recall them. After all, Leo had given up a week to help her, had shown no sign of being the playboy the papers made him out to be. And even if he was, her anger wasn’t with him, it was with her sister for blithely walking away, her mother for expecting her to take up the reins once more, with her father who sat at home, so wrapped up in his life he barely noticed what she had given up—what she had lost. With herself for allowing herself to be cast as the sensible, reliable one again and again. But she knew all too well what happened if she didn’t step up—everything crumbled.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said.
Leo sat back and raised his hands in mock surrender. ‘No need to apologise, Dr Gray.’
‘It’s just so hard to know what the right thing to do is. I mean, should I leave Dad alone to take his pills or not, like Rosa would say? Or leave Mama to flounder here alone?’ Anna twisted her fingers together. ‘They say opposites attract, but what no one mentions is what happens afterwards. What it’s like living in a house where two people are so incompatible. My father likes everything in its place, he likes rules and routines and plans.’
‘And notebooks?’ Leo cast a meaningful glance at Anna’s current notebook placed, as ever, within easy reach.
‘And notebooks,’ she agreed, unable not to answer his knowing smile with one of her own. ‘Whereas Mama, well, you’ve met Sancia...’
He nodded, amusement dancing in his dark eyes. Anna didn’t want to notice how good it felt when all his attention was on her, that direct gaze filled with warm approbation and something else, something hotter. Something that made her want to sit up, wish her hair weren’t messily tied back, wish that she were wearing something other than a paint-splattered T-shirt and cut-off old shorts.
‘I’d have thought that the law of averages should have meant that Rosa and I would have ended up somewhere in the middle,’ Anna continued, reaching for the beer and taking a sip of the light, slightly bitter liquid. ‘But although neither of us are quite as extreme, we definitely ended up on one side or the other.’ She glanced back across, her whole body tingling as she saw he was still looking at her with the same unnerving intensity. Laughing a little nervously, she ducked her head down to avoid meeting his gaze head-on. ‘Anyway, that’s ancient history.’
But she could still feel his gaze burning into her, hotter than the afternoon sun. ‘Let me get this straight. So you have no Sancia in you at all?’
‘Not a drop.’
‘You’re never spontaneous?’
‘Never. At least,’ she amended, as thoughts of her student folly, her intense crush on Sebastian, and the nearly catastrophic consequences flashed through her mind, leaving a wave of hot shame in its wake, ‘I have been, but it didn’t end well.’ Which was the understatement of the year.
He sat back, eyes alight with mischief. Anna tried to ignore the churn low down in her abdomen, mixed with an anticipation she didn’t want to admit to. After all, there was nothing to anticipate.
‘I’m all for making a plan every now and then, Anna.’
Her stomach tumbled as he drew out her name, his accent caressing each syllable, adding a slight stress on the first. ‘Aaan-na.’
‘That’s good to hear.’
‘But,’ he continued as if she hadn’t spoken, ‘spontaneity is what gives life its spice, don’t you agree?’
‘I’m English.’ No way was she going to let him see the swirl of excitement the dark caress of his voice invoked in her, let him see how the thrill of the unknown possibilities spiralled through her. What was wrong with her? She didn’t do spontaneous, remember, especially not with playboys.
Leo raised his eyebrows. ‘English. And?’
‘We’re not an island known for our spice,’ Anna said, ruthlessly pushing away thoughts of steaming curry, fresh falafel, her favourite tapas bar. ‘Nice, plain food, that’s the English way. Preferably boiled.’ Nothing like a stereotype to win an argument.
‘Ah, but you’re half Spanish,’ Leo reminded her. ‘Heat runs through your veins no matter how much you may try to dampen it.’
He spoke truer than he could have known. Heat did flare up at his words, flickering through her veins and along her arteries as if he had lit a fuse. Anna swallowed, dragging her eyes away from Leo’s hypnotic gaze, down the contour of his throat, only to stutter to a stop as she reached the bronze breadth of his chest. Did the man never put a shirt on?
‘I thought we already established that I’m a clone of my father.’
His voice dropped, low and suggestive. ‘I don’t believe that, Anna. And I don’t think you do either.’
Where was the quick response, her smart put-down? She’d belonged to a debating team throughout university, for goodness’ sake, she ate overconfident undergraduates for breakfast and still had space for elevenses, but for once Anna was utterly lost for words. Lost and floundering. She was hyper-aware of her surroundings, of the sun beating down relentlessly, the tart scent of lemons, the tang of salt drifting in on the sea breeze. Hyper-aware of colour; of the gleaming white of the freshly painted bungalow, the faded green of the shutters and low tiled roof, such a contrast to the lush greens of the overgrown trees and bushes surrounding her, the clear turquoise of the sea, fringed by the creamy yellow crescent of sand.
And overpowering it all she was hyper-aware of Leo di Marquez. Sitting almost insolently as he lounged on his chair, muscles gleaming under the sun’s caress, his eyes laughing, promising something she didn’t want to comprehend. Anna had felt a connection to him the day they met, unwanted, unlooked for, unknown—that was why she kept her distance. But like a greedy child she had allowed her curiosity to lead her into the gingerbread house and now she was trapped.
‘Don’t you think it’s fun to be just a little spontaneous every now and then?’ Leo continued, his voice still low, still mesmerising.
No, Anna’s mind said firmly, but her mouth didn’t get the memo. ‘What do you have in mind?’
His mouth curved triumphantly and Anna’s breath caught, her mind running with infinite possibilities, her pulse hammering, so loud she could hardly hear him for the rush of blood in her ears.
‘Nothing too scary,’ he said, his words far more reassuring than his tone. ‘What do you say to a well-earned and unscheduled break?’
‘We’re having a break.’
‘A proper break. Let’s take out La Reina Pirata—’ his voice caressed his boat’s name lovingly ‘—and see where we end up. An afternoon, an evening, out on the waves. What do you say?’
Anna reached for her notebook, as if it were a shield against his siren’s song. ‘There’s too much to do...’
‘I’m ahead of schedule.’
‘We can’t just head out with no destination!’
‘This coastline is perfectly safe if you know what you’re doing.’ He grinned wolfishly. ‘I know exactly what I’m doing.’
Anna’s stomach lurched even as her whole body tingled. She didn’t doubt it. ‘I...’ She couldn’t, she shouldn’t, she had responsibilities, remember? Lists, more lists, and spreadsheets and budgets, all needing attention.
But Rosa would. Without a backwards glance. She wouldn’t even bring a toothbrush.
Remember what happened last time you decided to act like Rosa, her conscience admonished her, but Anna didn’t want to remember. Besides, this was different. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone; she wasn’t ridiculously besotted, she was just an overworked, overtired young woman who wanted to feel, to be, her age for a short while.
‘Okay, then,’ she said, rising to her feet, enjoying the surprise flaring in Leo di Marquez’s far too dark, far too melting eyes. ‘Let’s go.’