Книга - The Spanish Tycoon’s Takeover

The Spanish Tycoon's Takeover
Michelle Douglas


The new boss…Her family hotel has just been taken over and Wynne needs to do whatever it takes to seem bright, breezy and unflappable. Easier said than done! If she can work nicely with the charismatic and ruthless Xavier Ramos then her colleagues might just keep their jobs…Xavier has no qualms about ruthlessly transforming a homely motel into a chic boutique hotel – only he has a fight on his hands against fiery Wynne! While he’s busy taking over her hotel, with every battle he finds she’s taking another piece of his heart…







The new boss...

Her family hotel has just been taken over and Wynne needs to do whatever it takes to seem bright, breezy and unflappable. Easier said than done! If she can work nicely with the charismatic Xavier Ramos then her colleagues might just keep their jobs...

Xavier has no qualms about ruthlessly transforming a homely motel into a chic boutique hotel—only, he has a fight on his hands against fiery Wynne! While he’s busy taking over her hotel, with every battle he finds she’s taking another piece of his heart...


“What kind of comfort are you offering me, Wynne?”

She glanced up into his eyes. The cold, calculated hardness in them—so at odds with his touch and his words—made her shrink back inside of herself. She took a step away from him, tugging her hand free. “Not that kind of comfort.”

Her voice sounded like it belonged to somebody else.

“Are you sure?”

How could he make his voice so warm when his eyes were so hard?

“Positive.”

“Because I do not fraternize with my staff.”

She prickled at the threat latent in his words—that if she attempted to fraternize with him, he’d see it as grounds for instant dismissal. She couldn’t be dismissed. Not yet.

She drew herself up to her full height. “If by fraternize you mean sleep with, then let me assure you that you’re safe from me.” She whirled around and made for the conference room. “You’re not my type,” she hurled over her shoulder.


The Spanish Tycoon’s Takeover

Michelle Douglas






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


MICHELLE DOUGLAS has been writing for Mills & Boon since 2007 and believes she has the best job in the world. She lives in a leafy suburb of Newcastle, on Australia’s east coast, with her own romantic hero, a house full of dust and books, and an eclectic collection of sixties and seventies vinyl. She loves to hear from readers and can be contacted via her website, www.michelle-douglas.com (http://www.michelle-douglas.com).


To Janet,

who always champions the underdog

and expects no thanks in return.

You’re an inspiration.


Contents

Cover (#uefa73c6b-9246-50e1-8558-599e2aad4741)

Back Cover Text (#u863b6d2f-c251-5b40-b3a2-d773d050a64a)

Introduction (#u27796c75-8f56-5b47-af31-7c9f2533a62e)

Title Page (#u97341550-547f-5849-ba10-58bd0409e124)

About the Author (#ub448e3b5-e9a7-5ee8-9c74-a57e00c5c33f)

Dedication (#uedfbfdd5-0e6c-5539-8f41-82ded2452816)

CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_33a3e75e-d0d7-5c77-bc12-ba83d813d118)

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_440ab334-96a7-5546-9076-23646068797d)

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_27e86142-5a51-5175-b81e-ad5f148ea1fb)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_797026d8-b8f9-5fed-a3e4-647921c00284)

WYNNE STEPHENS TURNED a full circle on the spot, pressing a hand to her churning stomach. The foyer of Aggie’s Retreat gleamed. She should be proud.

But, even looking at it through her usual rose-tinted glasses, she knew the sparkling cleanliness couldn’t hide the fact that the carpet on the stairs leading to the first-floor rooms was badly worn and starting to fray, or that the ornate double doors leading into what a brass plaque grandly pronounced as The Drawing Room were such poor Victorian imitations as to be almost laughable. The pounding at her temples increased.

To make matters worse, the skylight above them flooded the foyer with so much Queensland Gold Coast sunshine as to completely counter the motel’s cosy Victorian manor theme.

No, no—sunlight is good.

Sunlight was a mood-enhancer, right? She wanted Xavier Mateo Ramos in as good a mood as possible. And why shouldn’t he be? He’d just bought her pride and joy.

‘I thought he’d be here by now.’ Tina drummed her fingers repeatedly against the back of the stool she stood behind.

Wynne couldn’t sit either. She moved behind the check-in counter to tidy the tourist brochures arranged on a discreet stand at its far end. They didn’t need tidying, but her hands needed to be busy. She tried to keep her face smooth, despite the pounding at her temples and the nausea swirling in her stomach.

She managed a shrug. Whether she managed nonchalance, though, was debatable.

‘He didn’t give an exact time for his arrival.’ She’d been expecting a text for the last couple of hours, but though she’d kept checking one hadn’t arrived. She checked her phone again all the same.

‘It’s a long flight from Spain. Maybe he and his party decided to stay over in Sydney for another day.’

‘I wish he’d stay there forever!’

Wynne tried to send her front-of-house reception clerk and right-hand woman a buck-up smile, but if the narrowing of Tina’s eyes was anything to go by she hadn’t succeeded.

‘I have a bad feeling about this.’ Tina thumped down to the stool. ‘If your grandmother knew she’d have kittens, and—’

‘But my grandmother doesn’t know,’ Wynne cut in, her heart twisting. ‘She’s never going to know. She...’

Her voice cracked and she coughed to cover it. She pressed her lips together, afraid that if she said another word the burning at the backs of her eyes would get the better of her. If Aggie knew Wynne had sold her beloved motel she’d... Well, there was no knowing what she’d do. Aggie had always been unpredictable in everything except her love for Aggie’s Retreat and for Wynne. One thing was certain, though—it would break her heart.

Wynne pulled in a deep breath. Alzheimer’s disease, however, ensured that Aggie would never know.

‘I’m sorry.’ Tina reached across to squeeze her hand. ‘That wasn’t fair of me.’

She knew what Tina was really thinking, but was too tactful to voice—Would it really have been so bad to move Aggie from her expensive private nursing home to a cheaper facility? If she’d done so, she wouldn’t have had to sell Aggie’s Retreat.

Wynne hoped that she lived a further thirty-three years before she was called upon to make another such soul-destroying decision—a damned if she did and damned if she didn’t decision: to keep the motel that was her beloved grandmother’s legacy or to ensure that her grandmother’s comfort and what little happiness remained to her was secured.

God forgive her, but she’d chosen the latter.

And today she’d come face to face with the man who’d bought Aggie’s Retreat.

Darkness threatened the edges of her vision and she had to concentrate on her breathing in an effort to counter it. You will not faint!

It wasn’t even that she cared so much for herself, but the sale of the motel didn’t only affect her, and that knowledge tormented her. She could start over easily enough. She was relatively young. She had plenty of experience in the industry. As hard as it would be to walk away from Aggie’s Retreat, she’d find another position in the blink of an eye if she needed to. But her staff...

Dear God! She pressed both hands to her stomach. She’d been told by more than one person in the industry that she employed the dregs of society. Her nostrils flared. She knew exactly what it was like to be considered not good enough. Her mother mightn’t have said the words out loud, but her actions had sent a loud and clear message. Duncan hadn’t had any such qualms. He hadn’t minced his words when he’d told her she wasn’t polished enough, sophisticated enough, good enough to mix in his world.

She swallowed. Her staff had proved over and over again that they were more than capable of doing the jobs assigned to them. She owed them. And she was determined that they would all rise above the spiteful criticisms and petty insults and prove exactly how worthy they were.

She just needed to convince her new boss to give them a chance. That was all.

She glanced across at Tina. ‘I know you’re worried about your position here, but I’m sure it’s as safe as houses.’

She said it with more confidence than she felt, but Xavier Ramos had signed her to a two-year contract as the motel’s manager. Which surely gave her hiring and firing rights. In which case Tina wouldn’t be going anywhere. Nor would April or Libby or Meg or Justin or Graeme.

Wynne crossed her fingers and her toes. Tina needed this job. She was locked in a vicious custody battle with her despicable ex-husband. This job not only provided proof of Tina’s ability to provide financially for herself and her children, but the flexibility in her hours meant she had few childcare worries.

‘What if he decides to bring in his own people?’

‘Like who? He’s Spanish. He doesn’t have his own people. At least not here in Australia. We’re his people.’

But they both knew that with a single snap of his fingers he could toss them all out on their ears. Their new boss had the wherewithal to throw around more money in a day than either she or Tina would make in ten years combined. Men like that set their own rules.

Wynne straightened. He had agreed to hire her as manager, and that would give her the opportunity to fight for the staff, to make a case for them if need be, to make him listen.

Tina scowled. ‘These tycoon types always have their own people. He probably comes from one of those huge extended families. I bet he has an army of nephews and nieces, aunts and uncles and endless cousins who all need jobs. There...there might even be an arm of the family that’s scandalous...and he’s looking for a way to exile them overseas...and means to use Aggie’s Retreat as a bribe. There could be vendettas and—’

Wynne started to laugh. ‘You’ve been watching too many soap operas. I hope he gets here soon, because we’re both starting to play the worst-case scenario game.’

Tina thrust her jaw out. ‘What if he decides to turn Aggie’s Retreat into one of those signature Ramos extravagances? None of us will come up to scratch if that happens.’

Unfortunately that was true. But... ‘This place is too small.’

If the Ramos chain had decided to move into the Gold Coast market with one of their signature hotels, they wouldn’t have chosen a tiny little motor inn as their starting point.

‘Aggie’s Retreat—’ she glanced around wondering why Xavier had bought it without even seeing it ‘—is way too small scale for the Ramos chain.’

‘I wish you’d been able to find out more,’ Tina grumbled.

So did Wynne. While she’d shared an extensive email and phone correspondence with Xavier, he’d been tight-lipped about his plans for the motel. She pulled in a breath.

‘Things will change—that’s inevitable—but some of those changes will be for the better. At least all the endless repairs that have started piling up will get done.’ And not before time. No longer to worry about leaky taps, wonky wiring and broken roof tiles—what bliss!

She sent Tina a suddenly mischievous grin. ‘Who knows? He might even make over the motel in a Spanish style.’

Tina finally laughed. ‘Aggie’s dream! Now, that would be fun.’

Wynne rubbed damp palms down the sides of her black trousers. ‘And don’t forget he assured me that our vision for the motel was in line. Why on earth would he hire me on a two-year contract otherwise?’

‘To get you to sign on the dotted line.’

But why? Why would someone with the Ramos name want this little old motor inn of no account?

She hadn’t questioned it too much at the time, had simply been grateful that the sale would provide her with the financial wherewithal to take care of her grandmother. She squared her shoulders.

‘Let’s stop second-guessing the man. Our questions will get answered soon enough. Today we’re simply going to wow him with our renowned hospitality.’

Tina gave a nod, before sending Wynne a sidelong glance. ‘Aren’t you even a little bit nervous about meeting him?’

She wanted to deny it, but found herself running a hand across her chest in a useless effort to ease the tension that had it clenched up tight.

‘Terrified.’ She clenched and unclenched her hands. ‘I thought signing the sale contract would be the worst moment in this whole sorry business, but this is coming in a very close second.’

Tina hugged her. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve been a tactless cow.’

‘Nonsense. You’re as nervous as I am—that’s all. And just as invested.’

But the moment Xavier Ramos strode through the front door Wynne would no longer be the owner of Aggie’s Retreat. Technically she wasn’t the owner now, but it wouldn’t feel real until Xavier strode through those doors to stake claim to it.

A black pit opened up inside her.

‘Misses! Miss Wynne! Miss Tina!’ Libby came clattering down the stairs from the first floor.

‘No running!’ Wynne and Tina shouted at the same time.

‘Sorry, Miss Wynne. Sorry, Miss Tina.’ Their exhortations barely dimmed Libby’s Labrador-puppy-like excitement. ‘Miss April told me to tell you a limer...limo...that a big fancy car is coming down the street.’

Wynne’s heart started to hammer and she envied Libby her big, guileless smile. Libby was one of the team of young Down Syndrome workers that Wynne had hired from a local shelter. They formed a significant part of the housekeeping and gardening staff. April, her housekeeping manager, had been hired on a prison release parole programme. As had her maintenance man Justin. Tina and Meg had been hired from an agency that placed women who were victims of domestic abuse into the workforce. The dregs of society? Not likely!

She swallowed. They were her family. She loved them.

And yet she’d put her grandmother first. That knowledge—the guilt—ate away at her. She had to do her best for them. Better than her best.

She would not let her new boss fire them.

‘Thank you, Libby. Now, back upstairs with you and thank April for the warning. And no running this time.’

With a grin, Libby set off upstairs again, though thankfully at a more sedate pace.

How will you stop him? If he wants to fire them, how will you stop him?

She’d think of something. But hopefully it wouldn’t be necessary.

Through the expanse of glass at the front of the building she and Tina watched a long white limousine move down the drive, past the row of Christmas palms, to slide to a smooth halt by the front doors.

‘Good luck to us,’ Tina whispered. ‘I’m saying prayers...lots of prayers.’

Wynne moved out from behind the reception desk—a long curved confection of pine masquerading as polished oak—and then wasn’t sure what she should do. Hovering in the foyer like this made her feel like a fool.

She glanced around the faux Victorian interior and, as always, it made her smile. The Axminster carpet might be faded, and there might be the odd crack in the plasterwork, but the wooden staircase gleamed with the same rich lustre as the reception desk, the ginormous vase of gladioli looked stately on its marble stand, while the ornate mirror above them reflected an abundance of light over the space. The one thing Aggie’s Retreat did well was its welcome.

Wynne turned as a tall figure encased in an impeccable business suit strode through the door held open for him by his chauffeur. He stopped and surveyed the foyer through narrowed eyes, his chin held at an arrogant angle. His nostrils flared and light briefly blazed in his eyes before it was abruptly checked.

Wynne blinked—and swallowed. Dear Lord, the man was tall. And...um...broad. Dark eyes speared her with a steely gaze. Very slowly he moved towards her, and the closer he came the more he reminded her of something primal and immovable—like a mountain. Such a large man had no right to move with such panther-like grace. She flashed to a vision of him bursting the seams at the shoulders and arms of his jacket like the Incredible Hulk. Except...

Except he looked far too controlled and forbidding to do anything so unpremeditated.

Resisting the urge to run a finger around the collar of her blouse, she forced herself forward and made her smile broad. After all this was the new owner of Aggie’s Retreat. He deserved a welcome fit for royalty.

‘You must be Mr Ramos.’

He took her outstretched hand without hesitation, and this close to him she felt her pulse kick and her heart crash. He was the most disconcerting combination of hot and cold she’d ever come across. Despite the forbidding remoteness in his eyes, he had the whole simmering Mediterranean smoky sex appeal thing down pat.

‘Call me Xavier.’

The words fired out of him, clipped and curt—an order rather than a request. Her spine stiffened, until she reminded herself that he’d only flown in from Spain two days ago. Jet lag probably had him desperately discombobulated. And he was her boss. He could issue orders with gay abandon and she would simply have to bite her tongue and pretend that she wanted nothing more than to do his bidding.

She willed her body to relax. For the staff’s sake.

‘I’m Wynne Stephens. It’s lovely to finally meet you in person.’

He inclined his head and his hair gleamed as dark as the sea at midnight—jet-black. She’d never seen hair so dark. It looked thick and soft, and the tips of her fingers started to tingle.

His eyes were just as dark as his hair. The heat from his hand burned against her palm. But despite their darkness and depth his eyes remained cool. His lips had barely moved upwards into a smile, and she must have been watching too many B-grade movies recently, because she could swear she imagined a hint of cruelty about his mouth.

Those dark eyes scanned her face and she felt as if every secret she’d ever had was being pulled out for his examination and judgement. Heat travelled up her arm and she realised her hand was still clasped in his. She tugged it free, working overtime to hold fast to her composure.

‘You have a very attractive...’

Movement in the doorway captured her attention—the chauffeur, struggling in with a variety of luggage. Should she go and help him?

‘Ms Stephens?’

‘Oh!’ She swung back to him. ‘You must call me Wynne.’

His lips thinned. ‘I have a very attractive...?’

She choked back a laugh. Nothing like leaving a sentence hanging! ‘Accent.’ It was even better in person than on the phone.

One eyebrow lifted with devastating irony. ‘Really?’

She stared up at him and the derision in his eyes made heat rush into her face. Oh, he couldn’t think that she...

No way! He was attractive, but...

Suddenly the images flashing through Wynne’s mind became just a little too vivid.

She shook her head to dispel them, to try and get back on track. ‘Xavier, I’d like to welcome you to Aggie’s Retreat.’

He didn’t answer, just continued to stare at her with those pitiless eyes.

She lifted her chin, pushed her shoulders back. ‘I sincerely hope the motel brings you as much joy and pleasure as it has over the years to my grandmother and myself.’

Those lips cracked open into a ruthless smile that had her suppressing a shiver.

‘Don’t worry, Wynne, it already has.’

* * *

Wynne glanced past him and some of the tension in Xavier’s jaw eased. The wholeheartedness of her smile, its warmth, had taken him completely off-guard. He’d not expected her to be so...generous.

She’d not wanted to sell the motel—her reluctance had threaded through their every email and telephone exchange. It was no doubt why she’d made being manager one of the stipulations of the sale. His fists clenched. That still angered him, but it could be dealt with easily enough over the coming weeks. And it would be.

He’d arrived here today expecting tears...had readied himself for hostility. Instead...

He fought back a frown. Instead he’d been welcomed with a warmth that had made him want to turn around and return to Spain. She made him feel... He swallowed. For a moment she’d made him feel the same way his grandfather had always made him feel—truly welcome.

A dark weariness threatened to descend over him—an all too familiar grief that he’d wrestled with for the past four weeks and two days. It would be weak to give in to it, but it rose up within him now with renewed force as he glanced into Wynne Stephens’s face. He wanted to accept the welcome she offered. He wanted to embrace it and hold it tight.

It was a lie, though. She didn’t know him. She didn’t care for him. But that didn’t make the need gaping through him go away.

Dios! His hand clenched into a fist. He’d readied himself for a fight—a dirty fight—and she’d pulled the carpet out from under him. She’d welcomed him to Aggie’s Retreat as if she’d meant it. The woman was a witch! Just like her grandmother.

He stiffened, forcing up a wall between himself and his new manager. He always built a wall between himself and bewitching women. It kept things simple.

With a Herculean effort he kept the frown from his face, refusing to reveal his surprise, refusing to reveal how she’d thrown him. He’d seen her photograph. He’d known that she was attractive. But attractive women were everywhere. In his world beautiful women were everywhere. What Wynne Stephens’s photograph hadn’t revealed was the life and animation that filled the woman, threaded through her with a vibrancy that made what she looked like a secondary consideration. He hadn’t expected that.

If she wasn’t a Stephens...

He pushed the thought aside. He had no intention of punishing Wynne for her grandmother’s crimes, but a part of him couldn’t resist glorying in the knowledge that the world had come full circle—that a Ramos now had a Stephens under his thumb.

He hoped his grandfather was looking down and laughing with the pleasure of it. He hoped it would allow his grandfather finally to find peace.

Don’t make the same mistakes I made.

I won’t, he swore silently.

He realised the silence in the foyer had grown too long and uncomfortable. Not that he cared too much about that. It suited him to make others uncomfortable. It made them pause for thought before lying or double-crossing him.

He gestured behind him. ‘This is Reyes, my driver.’

Wynne welcomed him to Australia too, her words accompanied with one of those big smiles. Xavier made sure to survey it only from the corner of his eyes. He had to meet her gaze head-on, though, when she turned it back to him.

‘I thought from your correspondence that your son and his nanny would be accompanying you too.’

‘They will be arriving later.’

She stared at him as if waiting for more. ‘Later...today?’

‘No.’

She stared some more, as if waiting for him to continue, but he refused to gratify her curiosity. He’d left Luis in Sydney, under the eagle eye of his nanny Paula. He’d given them free rein to sightsee for the next few days. He hadn’t wanted to bring Luis here to witness any potential unpleasantness. And, while the welcome hadn’t been unpleasant, he had no doubt that the next few days would be.

‘Right. Well...make sure to let us know when to expect them.’

‘Why?’

She blinked. ‘So that we can have their room ready, of course.’

One of those megawatt smiles slammed into him.

‘And so we can make a fuss.’

Her laugh! It could wrap around a man and make him want—Nonsense!

‘No fuss will be necessary.’

Her smile only widened. ‘That’s what you think.’ Her blonde hair bounced about her shoulders and down her back, crackling with life and energy, as she gestured to the woman behind the counter. ‘This is Tina, and we’re both determined to make your stay here as enjoyable as we can.’

He nodded at the other woman.

‘Now, tell me what you would most like? We’ve organised afternoon tea in the Drawing Room if you’d like refreshments. Tea, coffee, lamingtons—which are an Australian speciality—and chocolate chip cookies because...’ She shrugged. ‘We were expecting Luis, and what little boy can resist those, right?’

Xavier stared at the woman, dumbfounded. He’d just bought her motel. He wasn’t dropping in for tea!

She must have misread his expression, because he received another blast of warmth from that spectacular smile of hers. ‘We knew you’d probably be exhausted, and thought you might want a little pick-me-up before you took a tour of the place.’

‘We would prefer it if you simply showed us to our rooms.’

Her smile slipped, but only for a second. For that second, though, he felt like the worst of heels.

‘Of course.’

‘You can send refreshments to our rooms.’

A wall came down in her eyes then, though nothing else in her expression changed, and he bit back something rude. He’d meant his words to come out as sign of appreciation for the refreshments she’d organised, not as a command.

He glanced around, resisting the urge to roll his shoulders. ‘Where is your bellboy or a porter?’

Her laugh feathered across his skin. ‘Ah, that would be me.’

Before he could say anything she took one of the suitcases that Reyes had placed on the floor and started up the stairs.

‘Your rooms are right this way. I’ve made sure you have the very best rooms Aggie’s Retreat has to offer.’ A twinkle lit her eyes as she glanced back over her shoulder to Xavier. ‘I fear, however, that it’ll be a little more rustic than you’re used to.’

In two strides he was at her side and had relieved her of the suitcase. It was all he could do not to scowl at her. ‘You think I will find fault with my quarters?’

‘Absolutely not.’ There was a hint of mischief in her eyes. ‘I expect the motel to charm your socks off!’

A quaint expression, perhaps, but her optimism was misplaced. He kept silent on that point, however.

She led them to the very end of the first floor corridor, and he refused to notice the provocative sway of her hips. Had she deliberately placed them in the rooms furthest from reception?

She flung open a door to her right. ‘This is the Windsor Suite. Our best room, and yours for the duration, Xavier.’

He’d seen pictures of all the rooms, of course. But this wasn’t a suite. There were no separate bedroom and living quarters. The sleeping area was merely separated from the living area by a step, and the most ludicrous wooden railing that stretched from one side of the room to the other. A sliding glass door gave on to a balcony overlooking the rear of the motel. It was decorated with what he suspected were fake wrought-iron railings and fretwork. Still, it would do for now.

‘Opposite we have Luis and Paula’s room—the Westminster Suite—for when they arrive.’

She opened the door for his inspection. It was large, like his, and contained two double beds. Rather than a balcony it had a sunroom that overlooked the front of the motel. Reyes’s room—the Cambridge Suite—was next to it.

‘I hope you’ll be very comfortable. I’ll send up refreshments shortly. If there’s anything you need, just ring down to Reception.’

‘Thank you.’ He nodded. ‘Today we will settle in. Tomorrow we will get to work.’

By the time he was through there wouldn’t be a trace of the black-hearted Aggie Stephens left in this godforsaken motor inn. He couldn’t wait to get started. He would turn Aggie’s Retreat into a haven of such beauty and opulence that his grandfather’s name would be linked with innovation and luxury forever.

He would do his grandfather’s memory proud. He would turn this into a place that Lorenzo would have loved—an establishment worthy of him. Once that was done maybe the scalding ache that had taken up residence in his chest since Lorenzo’s death would finally go away.


CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_ce95ccd9-fbd4-52d1-8be1-fad7acf636bf)

XAVIER SET A deliberately ruthless pace the following morning. He wanted to gauge Wynne’s measure before he set about incorporating the changes that would turn this two-bit motor inn into one of the most extravagantly luxurious hotels in the Ramos Corporation’s portfolio.

His grandfather deserved the best.

In his final days Lorenzo had confided in Xavier—had confessed that for the past fifty-five years this was where his heart had dwelled. He’d smiled at Xavier with such sadness it had been all Xavier could do not to throw his head back and howl.

Don’t make the same mistakes I made.

He’d made his grandson promise. Xavier had pressed his hand to his heart and had sworn he wouldn’t. That promise had brought his grandfather a measure of peace. For himself, Xavier had sworn to find a way to pay fitting tribute to the only person who had truly loved him.

No expense would be spared.

Nor would recalcitrant employees.

Xavier had ordered Wynne to dance attendance on him at eight a.m., but she’d cheerfully informed him that that was impossible—she had breakfasts to take care of. The earliest she’d be free would be nine o’clock, once Tina’s shift started.

To her credit, she’d arrived in the motel’s conference room—located next to his suite—at nine on the dot. As he’d demanded his own breakfast at six-thirty he knew she must have been up for at least three and a half hours, but she’d tripped in as fresh and perky as if she’d only just started her day. He wasn’t quite sure why, but it had annoyed him.

‘Tell me the deal with your breakfasts,’ he ordered now, without preamble.

She gestured to a chair. ‘May I sit?’ Her eyes danced. ‘Or am I to stand in front of the headmaster as I’m grilled to within an inch of my life?’

He blinked.

She didn’t wait for his invitation, but took the seat opposite. She crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap. ‘Good morning, Xavier. I hope you had a good night’s sleep.’

She didn’t exactly slouch, but she didn’t sit straight up to attention like most of his employees did either. He couldn’t say why, but that irritated him too.

As if she’d sensed his mood, she let a frown crease the smooth skin of her forehead. ‘Jet lag?’

‘Absolutely not.’ He lifted his chin and stared down his nose. ‘I spent two nights in Sydney before travelling north. That is more than enough time for a body to adjust to a new time zone.’

She pursed her lips and paused before speaking again. ‘You didn’t work your way up from the bottom of the industry, did you?’

He wasn’t sure what she was implying, but the criticism implicit in her words made his eyes narrow. ‘You might want to be very careful what you say next, Miss Stephens.’

Instead of seeing her pale and straighten, he could’ve sworn the corners of her lips twitched.

‘Would it help if I told you my middle name is Antonia?’

What on earth was she babbling about?

‘You see, whenever I was in trouble my grandmother would call me Wynne Antonia Stephens.’ She uttered her full name in deep, ominous tones. ‘It occurs to me that you have the same aplomb to carry that off. Mind you, your “Miss Stephens” was suitably crushing. Though I should probably tell you that I prefer Ms.’

He leant towards her and the faint scent of coffee, bacon...and jasmine drifted across to him. ‘What nonsense—you aren’t the slightest bit crushed.’

She opened her eyes wide. ‘Believe me, on the inside I’m utterly pulverised.’

It was all he could do to catch the smile that tried to slip free. She bit back a smile of her own and he suddenly found that his former irritation had drained away.

She clapped her hands together lightly. ‘Now, you wanted to know about breakfasts...’

He listened as she told him that guests who wanted breakfast needed to place their order and put it into the box on the reception desk by seven p.m. of the day before. Guests could choose to eat in the motel’s drawing room or have room service. The menu was limited, but adequate. And it appeared that Wynne herself was the cook.

He made a note to inform Reyes of the system—if they wanted breakfast they would have to place their orders in a timely fashion.

‘You have help.’

It wasn’t a question. Someone had brought his tray up to his room this morning, and it hadn’t been Wynne.

‘I have a girl who comes in for three or four hours in the mornings when I need her.’

‘What qualifications does she have?’

She blinked and very slowly straightened. ‘What qualifications does she need? She delivers trays to the rooms and washes dishes.’

Her legs remained crossed, her hands remained folded in her lap, but Wynne Antonia Stephens was no longer relaxed.

He thought of the way she’d almost made him laugh a minute ago. If Lorenzo were to be believed, Aggie Stephens’s charm had been lethal. Her granddaughter had obviously inherited it. However, while Lorenzo might have proved a pushover, his grandson was a very different proposition.

‘She’s hardworking, reliable and honest. In my eyes that makes her a model employee.’

‘And are you?’

‘A model employee?’ She sat back. ‘Hard to tell. I’ve been running this place for the last seven years. I’ve been the Chief rather than an Indian.’

Her eyes danced, but he refused to be beguiled by them again.

‘I have no doubts whatsoever, though, that I’ve been a model boss.’

He didn’t so much as crack a smile. ‘I meant are you hardworking, reliable and honest?’

He watched the merriment fade from her eyes. He hadn’t noticed how green they were till now, but perhaps it was simply a trick of the over-abundance of light pouring in at the windows.

‘Are you impugning my character, Mr Ramos? Now that is something I’ll take exception to.’

The Mr Ramos stung. He retaliated with, ‘I did not appreciate being manipulated into employing you.’

‘Ah...’

The martial light in her eyes faded. It was an unusual green—not emerald or sage. It shone with a softer and truer light—like jade.

‘So that’s why you’re itching for a fight?’

The unadorned truth of her words found their target. Being here—finally—in this ludicrous second-rate motel, with its ridiculous charm, had torn the scabs off the anger and outrage that had been simmering since his grandfather’s death. Now that he was here he wanted to smash something...or someone!

But Wynne—though she was that woman’s granddaughter—hadn’t even been born when Aggie had broken Lorenzo’s heart, when she’d manipulated him and made him suffer. Xavier’s heart might burn with the injustice and heartbreak Lorenzo had suffered, but in all likelihood Wynne had no idea what had happened fifty-five years ago. He couldn’t blame her for it, or hold her responsible. And it would be outrageous to punish her for it.

He straightened too, resisting the softening that coursed through him. Wynne needed to understand that he was in charge now. And the sooner he made that clear the better.

‘I’m planning to make changes here.’

‘Of course you are. It’s not like the place doesn’t need it.’

‘I have no intention of fighting you every step of the way or pandering to your sentimentality. You either do the job I’ve employed you to do or you hand your resignation in now.’

Her chin shot up, but it wasn’t the sudden frost in her eyes that Xavier noticed so much as the luscious curve of her bottom lip. He gazed at it, and the longer he stared the harder and sharper the hunger that sliced through him. If he kissed her, would that ice melt in the heat?

Her sharp, ‘Yes, sir!’ hauled him back.

The flush on her cheeks and the way she avoided eye contact told him he’d been staring...and that it had made her uncomfortable.

He didn’t want Wynne comfortable—he wanted her poised to carry out his every demand with flattering speed. He suspected if he gave the woman an inch she’d take a mile. But this was business, and he didn’t want her feeling uncomfortable on a personal level.

‘Do you have any other questions about how we run breakfast?’

‘I’d like to create a breakfast room, where guests can help themselves to a buffet breakfast.’

‘That would be lovely.’ Her eyes said otherwise. ‘But we don’t have the equipment or the staff.’

‘Yet.’

That perked her up.

He let her savour it. By the end of the day, when she’d had a taste of the wholesale changes he meant to make, he fully expected her unqualified resignation.

‘The motel does not serve lunch or dinner?’

‘No.’

Good. That meant he would have her full attention for the rest of the day. He started to rise.

‘Well...’ She grimaced. ‘Not as a general rule.’

He sat again. ‘Explain.’

‘We get a lot of repeat business at Aggie’s Retreat.’

‘Yes?’

‘That means we get to know our guests as...as individuals.’

She uttered that sentence as if it explained everything.

He stared at her. ‘And?’

‘So, for example, I know that Sandra Clark from up Cairns way would walk across hot coals for a halfway decent salmon cake, and that the favourite dish of Godfrey Trent from Sydney is crumbed cutlets.’

He gaped at her. ‘You cook their favourite meals?’

‘I charge through the nose for it.’

‘How much?’

She told him and he shook his head. ‘That’s nothing compared to the majority of hotel restaurant rates.’

‘But it’s far more expensive than the Thai restaurant down the road or the tavern on the corner. I make a seventy per cent profit and the motel gets its guests’ undying gratitude and loyalty. That sounds like a win-win, if you ask me.’

It made sound financial sense—except this wasn’t the way the Ramos Corporation ran its hotels! ‘What are you running here—a guesthouse? Because it certainly isn’t a hotel.’

She suddenly smiled—one of those smiles. ‘That’s the perfect description. We’re a home away from home. It’s why our guests keep coming back.’ Her smile widened. ‘That and the fact that our rooms are so clean.’

‘Which is just as well, as your rooms don’t have anything else to recommend them.’

‘Ouch. That’s a little harsh. She’s getting a little tired around the edges, I’ll admit, but Aggie’s Retreat still has charm.’

‘She’s shabby. And the charm is wearing thin.’ He stabbed a finger to the table. ‘I want a tour of the entire building. Now.’

‘Rooms Three, Eight and Twelve won’t be vacated until after ten, but the rest of the motel is at your disposal.’

He did his best to run her ragged for the next two hours, but she kept perfect pace with him. In any other circumstances he’d have been impressed, but not here. In fact the more time he spent in her company the more he realised she would have to go.

He couldn’t fire her—he wouldn’t stoop to that—but he’d be more than happy to accept her resignation once she handed it in. And he knew exactly how to achieve that.

He turned to her, cutting her off in mid-sentence as she told him some unpalatable truth or other about the building’s ancient plumbing system. ‘Wynne, I think it is time you learned the real reason I have bought Aggie’s Retreat.’

‘Excellent!’ She rubbed her hands together. ‘I’ve been wondering how long it would take you to put me out of my misery.’

His lips tightened. ‘You do not look as if you are in any state of misery.’ It looked as if misery were completely alien to this woman’s existence. Unlike Lorenzo’s. And unlike Xavier’s own.

He pushed that last thought aside. He had no intention of descending into self-pity. Camilla might have proved as false as any woman could, but he had Luis. He would never regret his son. He’d come here to lay the ghosts of the past to rest—his grandfather’s past and perhaps his own too. He would create a hotel that would do his grandfather proud. Maybe then both of them would have earned some peace.

Wynne tossed her head, and all her glorious hair bounced about her shoulders. Her smile only grew wider.

Dios, that smile!

‘Allay my curiosity then.’

For no reason at all, his heart started to pound.

Those clear green eyes surveyed him, alive with curiosity and energy. ‘After all, Aggie’s Retreat isn’t the kind of property the Ramos chain generally shows interest in.’

‘That’s because my interest in this establishment is personal.’

Her eyebrows lifted. ‘Personal?’

She rubbed her hands together again, and for a moment all he could imagine was the feel of those hands on his bare flesh. Heat flooded him with a speed that had him sucking in a breath. He couldn’t recall the last time thoughts of a woman, desire for a woman, had interfered with his work.

‘Ooh, it sounds like there’s a story here! I’m on the edge of my seat.’

No! He refused to want this woman.

He made his voice sharp. ‘This story...it is not for your personal edification. I have no desire whatsoever to provide you with entertainment or amusement!’

The light in those lovely green eyes snapped off. ‘No, of course not. I’m sorry.’

But even though she’d apologised, he had a feeling she’d prefer to stab him through the heart with something sharp and deadly. He could hardly blame her. She’d done nothing to deserve his rebuke. Her natural effervescence, however—her sense of fun, her attempts to be generous and pleasant—chafed at him. He didn’t want her to be so congenial...so willing to approve of him...so attractive.

He didn’t want to like her!

‘The “story” as you so quaintly put it, is sordid and unpleasant, and it does your grandmother no credit!’

His teeth ground together. He had no right to tar Wynne with the same brush. If he were honest, he had no desire to hurt her either. He just wanted her...gone.

‘This has something to do with Aggie?’

Her overly polite tone made him clench his teeth harder. He had no one to blame for that but himself.

Tell her the story, tell her what you mean to do, and then accept her resignation. Wish her well and then you’ll never have to see her again.

Before he could start, however, she broke in. ‘It might be better to take this back to the conference room, don’t you think?’

He grew aware, then, of the rattling of the housekeeping cart in the hallway, and the fact that he and Wynne were wedged in the bathroom of the smallest room Aggie’s Retreat had to offer. It was a room Wynne didn’t currently use, due to an issue with the plumbing—the explanation of which he’d cut short.

He gestured for her to precede him out of the room. When they reached the conference room she stood aside to let him enter first. She didn’t take a seat until he ordered her to sit. Her sudden deference had him grinding his back molars so hard he’d need dental work by the time he returned to Spain.

Her face, when she turned to him, was smooth and opaque and so formally courteous he had to bite back another rebuke. What reprimand could he utter? She was simply behaving in the manner that he wanted her to—that he’d ordered her to. The fact that he hated it was not her fault.

Aggie’s past sins were not Wynne’s fault either. Even if she had unknowingly profited from them.

‘You were about to explain why you’d purchased Aggie’s Retreat.’

Straight to the point. That, at least, he could appreciate.

‘Did you know that Aggie won this establishment in a card game?’

‘So that was the truth, then?’ Luscious lips lifted as if they were unused to such rigorous restraint. They were garnered back under house arrest a moment later. ‘I always thought it was a story my grandmother spun for dramatic impact. She was fond of a tall tale.’

‘It was the truth.’

‘I see.’

If she had any curiosity, she didn’t show it. Xavier swallowed back the acid that burned his throat. ‘My grandfather—Lorenzo Ramos—was the other card player. It was his hotel.’

‘Ah.’ She stared at him for a long moment. ‘Was he in love with Aggie?’

His stomach clenched. ‘Why do you say this?’

‘When you’re next in the foyer, look at the portrait on the wall behind the check-in desk. It’s of Aggie when she was a young woman. She was very beautiful...and a free spirit in a time when that was unusual. She had a lot of admirers.’

Admirers? His grandfather hadn’t simply been an admirer. He’d loved Aggie. And Aggie had taken advantage of that. She’d taken Lorenzo’s heart and had run it through with her deceitful, conniving ways before tossing it aside as if it were...as if it were nothing!

And in his desolation and wretchedness Lorenzo had buckled to family pressure and married the coldest woman Xavier had ever met—his grandmother. Lorenzo’s heartbreak had led to the biggest mistake of his life, while Aggie had lived it up with her ill-gotten gains. Was there no justice in this world?

The smooth skin of Wynne’s forehead creased. ‘Has your grandfather held a grudge all these years? Because she bested him in a card game?’

She clasped her hands on the table, and the incredulity in her eyes burned through him.

‘Or is his grievance because he didn’t win her heart?’

‘He held a grudge because your grandmother cheated in that game of cards.’ Xavier shot out of his chair to pace the length of the room. ‘This motel should’ve been under the Ramos Corporation’s aegis all these years.’ He pointed a finger at her. ‘She manipulated him, made him fall in love with her, and then she...she cheated him.’

He paced some more.

When she remained silent, he spun back. ‘Are you not going to say something?’

She lifted one slender shoulder. He couldn’t blame her for feeling at a loss. ‘Your grandfather told you all this?’

‘On his deathbed.’

She stared, a frown gathering in her eyes. ‘Xavier, when did your grandfather die?’

He had to breathe deeply in through his nose and then let the breath out through his mouth before he could answer her. ‘Not quite five weeks ago.’

For the briefest of moments her gaze softened. ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’

He nodded. ‘Thank you.’

A long silence ensued. All the while he was aware of her scrutiny. It was all he could do to feign indifference beneath it.

Finally she broke the quiet. ‘So... He asked you to...?’

Xavier lifted his chin. ‘Before he died he made me promise to buy the motel back.’

He had the penny piece and the Queen of Hearts card that Lorenzo had given him. He’d sworn to place them into Aggie’s hand himself. Apparently Aggie would know what they signified. He didn’t want to meet the woman who had caused his grandfather so much grief. But he had promised.

None of this is Wynne’s fault.

He took his seat again, biting back a sigh. ‘I am sorry if this gives you pain. I am sorry to be the one to reveal to you such an ugly truth about your grandmother.’

He waited for an outburst—protestations. Instead her gaze was removed from his as she stared down at the hands she’d pulled into her lap. From across the table he couldn’t tell if they were clenched or not.

‘You have nothing to say to this?’

‘Um... Congratulations? You’ve won?’

He stiffened. ‘I do not appreciate your flippancy.’

Her gaze lifted to his. She bit her lip, but it wasn’t pain that threaded through those extraordinary eyes. It might almost be...pity!

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Xavier. You expect me to believe the ravings of a dying man? Seriously?’

His head rocked back.

‘And then what? You want to turn this situation—us—into the Montagues and the Capulets? Puh-lease! I have better things to do with my time. And you should have too. One thing you shouldn’t be doing is taking revenge for something your grandfather was too lazy to pursue himself while he was alive.’

‘Too lazy...!’

He couldn’t help but roar the words at her. He pushed himself and his chair away from the table, his stomach cramping as the pain of the loss of his grandfather pounded through him with renewed force.

‘You know nothing about my grandfather! He was the kindest, most gentle of men, and he didn’t deserve what Aggie did to him.’

‘Have you ever noticed that when a man gets his heart broken it’s always the woman’s fault, but whenever a woman’s heart is broken she’s usually found at fault too?’ She shot to her feet, hands on hips. ‘You want to know what your sad little story tells me about your grandfather? That he was a fool risking his motel in a game of cards! What on earth was he thinking?’

A fool? Xavier clenched his hands so hard he started to shake.

‘I also know that Lorenzo married and sired three sons. That doesn’t exactly speak of heartbreak to me. And you needn’t look so surprised. Did you expect me to do no homework on the Ramos Corporation? I know that Lorenzo founded a great hotel empire.’

Lorenzo had thrown himself into work because there’d been nothing for him at home. Not that Xavier had any intention of telling Wynne that.

‘Which means he could’ve bought back Aggie’s Retreat any time he wanted to while he was alive—if it was that important to him.

If? ‘He had his pride!’

Her jaw dropped, but her shock was far from edifying.

‘If he truly loved Aggie, but let pride prevent him from pursuing her, then...then he deserved his broken heart.’

‘You’re as heartless as your grandmother!’

She closed her eyes and dragged in a breath. ‘I’m just pointing out that you know only one side of the story. I can tell you right now that Aggie enjoyed male attention. She never made any secret of it. I can also tell you, with my hand pressed to my heart, that she would never have cheated in a matter of honour. But as you don’t know her I don’t expect you to believe me. And here’s a novel thought for you, Xavier. What happened between Aggie and Lorenzo has absolutely nothing to do with us—it’s none of our business. And I have absolutely no intention of troubling myself with it further.’

The burning in his chest intensified. ‘You do not love your grandmother?’

‘On the contrary—I adore her.’

‘But you do not care that I mean to obliterate every trace of Aggie—your beloved grandmother—from this motel?’

Her brow wrinkled and she leaned towards him. ‘Xavier, Aggie resides in the hearts of all those who love her—in my heart, my mother’s heart... Lorenzo’s heart. This—’ she gestured around the conference room, presumably to encompass the whole motel ‘—when you get right down to it, is nothing more than an old pile of cold bricks.’

The woman didn’t have a sentimental bone in her body! It didn’t give her the right, though, to make him feel guilty or...or juvenile for trying to right a past wrong.

* * *

Xavier lifted his jaw at just that angle—full of imperious arrogance—that made her want to slug him.

‘I’m willing to accept your resignation any time you wish to proffer it, Miss Stephens.’

‘It’s Ms. Also, you left out the “Wynne Antonia”. I promise you the full name carries more weight.’

He glared at her, but before he could open his mouth and fire her she continued.

‘I have no intention of proffering my resignation. I knew you would make changes to the motel. I have no issue with that. Some changes are long overdue. As for the history between our grandparents—as I’ve said, I have no intention of concerning myself with it. As far as I’m concerned nothing has changed.’

Xavier’s glare deepened, but April chose that moment to appear in the doorway.

Wynne stood and excused herself.

‘This had better be important,’ she murmured to the other woman.

April nodded, and as Wynne listened to what she had to say her stomach started to knot.

She swung back to Xavier briefly. ‘I’m sorry, but there’s a situation I need to deal with.’

Irritation flitted across his face. ‘Can’t you get—?’

‘No, I can’t.’

There was no time to stand around arguing. She took off down the corridor to Room Twelve. Ignoring the Do Not Disturb sign on the door, she knocked. ‘Ms Gladstone?’ She knocked harder. ‘Serena?’

No answer.

Without further ado Wynne swiped her master key and pushed through the door. The breath caught in her throat when she saw Serena crumpled on the floor.

‘April, call for an ambulance immediately.’ She raced over to kneel beside the unconscious woman, reaching for her hand. ‘Let them know she’s diabetic and twelve weeks pregnant.’


CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_e3592b87-e6b1-58f3-bb05-a38e411933b6)

WYNNE’S FINGERS SHOOK, but she found Serena’s pulse. Thank you, God! It was faint, though, and that couldn’t be good. She chafed one cold hand between both of her own.

‘Serena... Serena, honey, can you hear me?’

Serena didn’t stir.

And then she was aware of Xavier, kneeling beside her, taking Serena’s other hand.

‘Dios! She is freezing.’

She hadn’t realised he’d followed her. He’d probably meant to fire her once he’d caught up with her, for insubordination. He still might.

He made as if to lift the unconscious woman, but Wynne stopped him. ‘I’m not sure we should move her.’

She was pregnant. What if they accidentally did something to hurt both Serena and the baby?

Without a word, he pulled the quilt from the bed and tucked it around the woman with such gentleness it had a lump forming in Wynne’s throat.

‘What else can I do?’

She swallowed. ‘Can you hold her hand?’

Shocked dark eyes met hers. ‘She knows you, yes?’

She nodded.

‘If she regains consciousness a familiar face will be a comfort to her.’

That was true, but in that case what she was about to ask him to do was far from glamorous.

‘Tell me,’ he ordered.

She wondered briefly if the man even knew how to couch his demands as requests. She shook the thought off. They had far more important things to consider at the moment.

‘Can you check the bathroom for any signs of vomit or...’ she swallowed ‘...blood?’

He didn’t even blink—just set off to do her bidding at once.

He returned a moment later. ‘Vomit, but no blood.’

That meant Serena hadn’t lost the baby.

Yet.

‘We need to let the paramedics know that when they arrive.’

April appeared in the doorway. ‘The ambulance is on its way. Tina is primed to show them up here the moment they arrive. They’re less than five minutes away. Is there anything else you’d like me to do?’ She sent a covert glance in Xavier’s direction. ‘Or would you like me to...get on with things?’

Dear Lord. If Libby or the other housemaids got wind of this there’d be tears before bedtime.

‘Thanks, April. If you can just...keep things as normal as possible for the rest of the staff and guests, that would be great. And, if we can manage it, I’d like as few sightseers as possible. It’s our responsibility to safeguard Ms Gladstone’s privacy.’

‘I’ll do everything I can,’ April promised, closing the door behind her.

Wynne glanced back down at Serena, gently pushing the hair from her face. ‘Serena, honey, can you hear me? Give my hand a squeeze if you can.’

Nothing.

In the next moment a damp washcloth was pushed into her hand, and she wasn’t sure why but the large solid shape of Xavier in the room helped to steady her. She gently pressed the washcloth to Serena’s brow, and then her cheeks, murmuring to the other woman the entire time—telling her where she was and what they were doing, saying anything she could think of to reassure her.

She glanced up briefly. ‘Xavier, could you check the dishes on the sideboard—’ she nodded in its direction ‘—and tell me what food is there? I want to know if she’s eaten this morning.’

He strode across with long, assured strides and the more she looked at him the steadier her pulse became.

‘One rasher of bacon, two eggs, two pieces of toast.’

He glanced back at her with his eyebrows raised.

She sent him a weak smile. ‘So that means she’s eaten one rasher of bacon and the beans.’

He lifted up some orange peel. ‘And an orange. This we must tell to the paramedics too, yes?’

She nodded, and beneath the quilt Serena stirred.

‘The ambulance is here,’ Xavier murmured from the window that overlooked the front of the motel.

Excellent.

‘Hey, honey.’ Wynne found a smile as Serena opened her eyes. ‘It’s good to have you back with us.’

Serena blinked and frowned, glanced about, and then her hand clutched Wynne’s. ‘The baby?’ she croaked.

Wynne gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. ‘Now, don’t you go upsetting yourself. There’s absolutely no indication of any kind that there’s anything wrong with your baby. And look—’ She tried to stand as the paramedics entered the room, but the other woman refused to relinquish her hand. ‘The ambulance crew is here, and they’ll take excellent care of you. They’ll take you to hospital and the doctors will give you a thorough check to make sure everything is okay. You’ll see. Everything will be fine.’

Fear flitted across Serena’s face and she struggled to rise. ‘Please don’t leave me, Wynne.’ She coughed as if she had a dry throat. ‘Please, I—’

The entreaty in the other woman’s eyes twisted Wynne’s heart. ‘I’ll come with you.’ She squeezed her hand. ‘And I’ll call your sister. You don’t worry about anything—you hear? You just concentrate on feeling better.’

Serena subsided with a nod. ‘Bless you, Wynne...’

The paramedics allowed Wynne to ride in the ambulance.

Before they left, Xavier pushed Serena’s handbag into Wynne’s arms. ‘You’ll probably need her details. And her phone to find her sister’s number.’

His quick thinking surprised her. ‘Thank you.’

‘I’ll take care of everything that needs doing from this end.’

Would he even know what to do? She let that thought slide as the ambulance doors closed. She didn’t want to leave him alone with her staff, but she had no choice. Between them Tina and April would take care of everything...keep the ship afloat.

She crossed her fingers. Crossed them for Serena, for all her staff, and for herself.

* * *

Wynne planted herself on a bench in the anonymous hospital waiting room. She waited. And waited. She rang Serena’s sister, who lived two hours away. She made the other woman promise to drive safely. She made her promise to take a ten-minute break at the halfway point in her journey.

She glanced at her watch. She’d only been here for thirty minutes, but the minutes seemed like hours. The medical staff told her that Serena was in a stable condition, but they refused to tell her anything else...such as whether Serena had lost her baby or not.

Her stomach churned. Let the baby be okay. Serena wanted that baby with every fibre of her being. If she lost it—

Don’t even think that.

She started when a plastic cup was pushed underneath her nose. She took it automatically, and stared in astonishment as Xavier folded himself down on to the padded bench beside her, holding another cup.

‘Tea,’ he said. ‘I thought you might like one.’

She blinked, but he didn’t disappear. ‘What...what are you doing here?’

‘I brought Ms Gladstone’s things. We thought she might need them.’

She nodded, and then glanced around.

‘I left them at the nurses’ station.’

‘Oh, good thinking.’

He frowned, and leaned forward to peer at her. He smelled like vanilla and pinecones and the sea—all her favourite things.

‘Wynne, are you okay?’

She suddenly realised she’d been staring, but not talking. She shook herself. ‘I’m fine. Just worried about Serena.’

His frown deepened. Gone was all his former arrogance and...and hardness. In its place...

In its place was concern and warmth and something else she couldn’t quite pin down—but it made her stomach curl and warmed the toes she hadn’t even realised were cold.

‘The nurse has informed me that she is in a stable condition.’

Oh, that accent! When he wasn’t playing the role of demanding boss or avenging angel... A shiver rippled through her. Yes, that accent could do the strangest things to a woman’s insides.

‘So why all this worry?’

She leapt up to stride across the room. ‘Because that’s all they’ve told me too!’ She strode back again. ‘What they haven’t told me is if her baby is all right.’

He stared up at her, but she couldn’t read his expression.

Very gently he pulled her back down beside him. ‘Yes, I can see why that would be important. I will make a deal with you, Ms Wynne Antonia Stephens.’

He didn’t use an ominous tone, and the way his mouth shaped her full name, with the smallest of smiles playing across his lips, made her pulse race.

‘A deal?’

‘The minute you finish your cup of tea I will go and find out all I can about Serena and her baby.’

She stared at him, liking this new, improved version of her boss. But... ‘What makes you think they’ll tell you anything?’

He raised a supercilious eyebrow and she found herself having to choke back a laugh. This was a man used to getting his own way. Tomorrow that might be devastating. Today, however, it would be useful—very useful.

She pulled the lid off her cup. ‘Xavier Mateo Ramos, you have yourself a deal.’

When she smiled at him he smiled back, and the day didn’t seem so bleak and dark. Somewhere a ray of hope shone amid the dark gloom of worry.

‘You must not gulp it down in one go,’ he ordered. ‘It will be very hot.’

And sweet. She tried not to grimace as she took her first sip. Maybe he thought she needed sweetening. She thought back over their conversation in the conference room earlier and conceded that he might have a point. She really needed to work on her deference and being tactful skills.

She bit back a sigh and took another sip of her tea. ‘I’m sorry, Xavier. This isn’t what I had planned for your first day.’

‘It is not your fault.’ He eyed her thoughtfully. ‘You were quite amazing, you know—very calm and collected.’

She’d felt like jelly inside. ‘So were you.’

‘But you knew what to do. I did not.’

She’d bet that didn’t happen very often. It wouldn’t be particularly tactful to point that out, though. Still, it was nice to have some evidence that he wasn’t totally invulnerable.

‘Serena is one of our regulars, so I know her situation.’

‘Her diabetes and her pregnancy?’

Her heart started to pound again. Please let Serena’s baby be safe.

‘Tell me your procedure in such cases. You obviously have one.’

‘Cases like this are rare, thankfully.’

‘Why did April come and get you? She must clean occupied rooms all the time.’

‘We have a policy that if the Do Not Disturb sign is on the door for too long two staff members should be present when entering the room.’ And, given April’s criminal record, Wynne had no intention of placing her housekeeping manager in a potentially compromising situation.

Xavier nodded slowly. ‘Yes. I can see how that would be wise.’

‘April had Tina ring through to the room first, but when there was no answer...’

‘She came and got you?’

Wynne nodded.

He stared at her, a frown in his eyes. ‘I do not understand why April was concerned enough to raise the alarm.’

Oh. ‘Like I said, Serena is a regular. She’s a hair and make-up artist and she was in the Gold Coast for a fashion show yesterday—she does a lot of them. She normally checks out at ten on the dot. She’d made no other changes to her usual routine—her breakfast was delivered at seven-thirty—and as it was after eleven...’

‘So...’ Xavier pursed his lips. ‘You choose to risk invoking your clients’ wrath—which you might have done if Serena Gladstone had simply been seeking quiet and solitude—in the interests of ensuring their wellbeing?’

That was a no-brainer! ‘Yes.’

He leant back and sipped his tea. ‘It is lucky for Serena that you chose the less professional option.’

Was he criticising her? He couldn’t be serious?

Bite your tongue, Wynne Antonia Stephens. Pick your battles.

‘How long would you have left it?’ She tried to keep the accusation out of her voice.

‘I hire staff to make those decisions for me.’

Do you feel safe and smug, tucked up in that ivory tower of yours?

She bit her tongue until she tasted blood. She wanted to bring this conversation to a close. Now. She lifted her cup and drained the rest of the awful tea. Oddly, though, both the liquid and the sugar had made her feel better.

She handed him her cup. ‘I’ve kept my side of the deal.’

His eyes throbbed into hers, but without a word her rose and left—presumably to find out all he could about Serena’s condition.

Wynne couldn’t endure sitting for another moment. She paced the waiting room, hoping the activity would help allay the tension that had her coiling up tighter by the second. In her mind’s eye, all she could see was the excitement stretching across Serena’s face last night as she’d told Wynne all her plans for the baby.

It had made Wynne almost...jealous.

Xavier was gone for twenty minutes.

Wynne paced the waiting room. Please. Please. Please. That one word went round and round in her head like a prayer. There would not be enough comfort in the world for Serena if she lost her baby.

For no reason, all the hairs on her arms lifted. She spun to find Xavier standing in the doorway. Her mouth went dry.

‘Well?’ She couldn’t manage anything above a whisper.

‘At the moment the doctor is optimistic that both Serena and her baby will be okay. Serena may need bed-rest for the remainder of her pregnancy, but...’

Xavier continued, but Wynne barely heard the rest of his words. She just let them wash over her in a comforting rush. She dropped down to one of the padded benches that lined the walls, the strength in her legs giving way.

‘Oh, Xavier.’ She pressed both hands to her chest. ‘That’s great news.’

And to her utter embarrassment she burst into tears.

In two strides he was across the room. A warm arm went about her shoulders, a strong thigh pressed against hers as he took the seat beside her. From shoulder to knee she found herself held against him—he was warm and solid and comforting, and she drew all of that in as she hauled a breath into shuddering lungs and wrangled her emotions back under control.

‘I’m sorry. I know this isn’t very professional of me, but...’

‘But it has been a harrowing morning and it has ended better than you feared. Wynne, your tears are entirely understandable.’

Really?

‘Come.’

He smiled, and she couldn’t find a trace of criticism in those dark eyes of his.

‘It is time I took you home.’

Her heart clenched. She wasn’t sure she even had a home any more.

‘I promised Serena’s sister I’d wait here till she arrived.’

He settled back with a nod.

Shock had her straightening. ‘You don’t have to stay, Xavier.’

He briefly clasped her hand, and heat flooded her. His eyes speared hers and she felt suspended between breaths. And then he edged away slightly, and the tightness about her chest eased a fraction.

‘I’ll wait.’

She wasn’t sure she wanted him to. But nevertheless she found his presence comforting. She told herself it was because while he was here with her he wasn’t at Aggie’s Retreat unsupervised, finding fault with things without her there to explain them in context. But the truth was that she simply appreciated the company.

She swallowed. It was the same way she’d have appreciated Tina or April’s company. Except...

She couldn’t remember Tina or April ever sending unexpected jolts of adrenaline coursing through her and reminding her of what it was like to feel alive—truly alive—rather than worried about everything and running around trying to put out fires.

For the moment, she decided to put the thought of fires and catastrophes out of her mind and simply enjoy the opportunity for some peace and quiet.

* * *

‘This isn’t the way back to the motel.’

Xavier glanced across at Wynne. ‘I’ve instructed Reyes to take us to an Oceanside restaurant. You haven’t had lunch and it is after two. You need to eat.’

She glanced at her watch, and although he had a feeling that she wanted to argue with him, she subsided back against the upholstery of the limousine. She barely seemed to notice the luxury of the large car, but he appreciated the leather seats after spending so long on those hard hospital benches.

Wynne must be worn out. He felt drained and he’d done next to nothing.

‘I have it on good authority that Clementine’s is an excellent restaurant.’

‘Yes, the reviews have been admirable.’

He frowned as the car came to halt in front of one of the Gold Coast’s most exciting new restaurants and Wynne showed not the slightest interest or excitement. He’d wanted to give her a treat for all her quick thinking and kindness to Serena Gladstone, but it appeared this wasn’t the kind of excursion designed to bring a smile to Wynne’s lips.

‘You would rather eat somewhere else?’

She sent him a look that he found difficult to interpret. ‘I’d be just as happy with hot chips on the beach.’ She glanced down at his feet. ‘But you’re not dressed for the beach.’

He too glanced down at his Italian leather shoes and silk blend socks. Before he could stop the words coming out of his mouth he said, ‘That can be fixed. I can take them off.’

She stared at him with so much surprise that he reached down and removed them at once. He met her gaze, defiance threading through him, and raised a deliberately challenging eyebrow. After two beats she gave a laugh and kicked off her own shoes. To see the effervescence and energy return to her eyes was the only reward he needed.

He bought two cones of chips and they ambled along the beach before finding a spot to sit where they could dig their toes into the sand. The beach—all golden sand and blue skies—stretched for miles in both directions, with the Gold Coast skyline stretching behind—mile upon mile of glamorous high-rises. The lightest of breezes touched his face, bringing with it the scent of salt and jasmine—the former from the ocean and the latter from the woman sitting beside him.

‘I want to tell you again that I think you did an extraordinary job today.’

She frowned. ‘You mean I was supposed to take your earlier criticism as a compliment?’

He stiffened. ‘What criticism?’

‘That by ignoring the Do Not Disturb sign I was being unprofessional.’

He glared at her. ‘That is not what I meant!’

She shrugged and stared back out at the surf. ‘It’s what you said.’

He found himself wrestling with a sudden anger. He was her employer. He didn’t need to explain himself to her.

Except...except if he’d given her the impression that he’d been criticising her then perhaps he did.

‘I am sorry if I gave you that impression.’ His words came out stiff, and he could have sworn out loud when her jaw tightened. ‘What I was trying to say was that I admire your understanding of your clients and your attention to their needs. I admire your...vigilance.’

She turned back to him, the smallest of frowns lurking in the depths of her eyes. ‘I work in a people profession. I’m trained to anticipate people’s needs.’

‘I work in a people profession too.’

A laugh shot out of her and she immediately tried to smother it. ‘We may work in the same industry, but we’re worlds apart, Xavier—and I’m not just talking about Northern and Southern hemispheres, here. You’re not the least interested in anticipating anyone’s needs. You hire staff for that. What you’re used to is barking out orders and having them obeyed immediately and without question.’

The moment the words left her she winced, her shoulders edging up towards her ears. ‘I didn’t mean that to sound disrespectful. I just meant we play different roles on the hotel industry’s food chain.’

He believed her—that she hadn’t meant to offend him. But in that moment he realised how distant, how remote he was from the day-to-day running of his hotels. He couldn’t be remote from this one. It meant too much.

His heart started to pound. ‘That’s what you meant when you said earlier that I had clearly not worked my way up from the bottom?’





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