Naldo, you can buy them from him?”
Isabela pouted slightly, dimpling her chin. “My brother can be terribly difficult. He probably won’t want them to leave the sacred turf of the estate. I did inherit some spending money when Daddy died, so I can pay what they’re worth. They are my family treasures, too, you know.”
Anna did feel bad for her. How would she handle being shunted aside so a brother could inherit everything? But she knew how strongly Naldo felt about the jewels. Naldo felt strongly about everything. “Seriously, I don’t even have them. You’d better talk to Naldo.”
Isabela chewed the plastic end of her sunglasses between straight white teeth. “Could we go inside for a moment?”
“Um, sure.” Anna led the way through the kitchen and into the tiny sitting room. Isabela looked at the old sofa as if it might bite, then lowered herself onto it.
“This cottage is a sweet little place, isn’t it?” She glanced around, a slight grimace shadowing her haughty features. Anna saw the faded paint, inexpensive knickknacks and mismatched colors through Isabela’s critical eyes. Somehow it made her love them more.
“Yes, it is.”
“But I know you don’t want to stay. You have a business to run, a life to lead.” She raised large, slightly watery eyes to Anna. “I had those things once, but my career…” She broke off and fanned her face with a hand, looking dangerously close to tears. “It’s a tough business and I’m not getting any younger. As you heard me say to Naldo, all I want now is a place to call home.”
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “This could be my home.”
Anna blinked rapidly. “What?”
Isabela fixed her with a doe-eyed gaze. “Will you sell the cottage and the land to me? It would be an act of sisterhood.”
Anna’s brain was starting to feel overloaded. Sisterhood? With Isabela De Leon? What on earth was she up to? Trying to snatch the land away from Naldo so she had a claim to the property?
“I can’t. Naldo offered to buy it first and I know it means a lot to him.”
Isabela’s lip quivered. “I feel so…rootless and alone. With nowhere to call home.”
Trust me, I know the feeling.
“I’m not even sure if I’m going to sell. I’m having a hard time packing because I’m so attached to the place.”
“You might keep it?” Isabela’s face snapped back into sharp focus. “You mean, actually live here?”
“Yes.” As she said it, the casual thought took on the weight of a serious possibility.
The only real snag would be proximity to Naldo.
“You can’t keep it.” Isabela’s loud voice rang off the walls. “My brother wouldn’t hear of it. Naldo will fight in court to preserve the integrity of the estate. There’s no way he’ll accept the existence of a one-acre hole in his beloved kingdom. You might think you’re going to keep it, but sooner or later, he’ll get his way and you’ll end up with nothing.”
The final word was growled through closed teeth.
Anna shivered.
Isabela laughed. “I’ll tell you a secret. Naldo sent me here. He thinks I’m here trying to persuade you to sell to him. I even told him I’d ask you to sell it to me, and he loved the idea, thought it was hilarious.”
She leaned forward. “Men don’t take us seriously.” Her eyes narrowed. “They think we’re just pretty playthings here to serve their needs. When they’re done with us, they toss us aside. I need to protect myself, and you should protect yourself.” She tilted her head. “I know he slept in your bed.”
Anna gritted her teeth. Had Naldo told her?
“Don’t flatter yourself that he cares about you. Naldo means to have this property one way or another, and he will have it. Protect yourself.”
She rose to her feet with a fluttering of chiffon and shoved her black glasses back on. Her heels tapped on the linoleum as she stalked out of the house, leaving Anna still perched in a living room chair.
Isabela left a trail of unease-and cloying scent-in her wake.
Had Naldo sent his sister to persuade her with stories of “sentimental reasons” and sexist exclusion? She didn’t believe for a moment that Isabela wanted the cottage for herself. She might not have the limitless means of her brother, but Isabela could undoubtedly buy a ten-thousand-square-foot beachside mansion without even straining her bank accounts.
She was up to something, and it seemed very likely that Naldo was behind it. He’d already proved he was devious enough to use kisses, even sex, to get his way. What next?
She was going to let him know exactly what she thought of his little plan.
She stomped inside and picked up the phone. The pink, heart-shaped piece of paper with Naldo’s number still lay on the counter and she punched it in.
“Hi, Pilar, it’s Anna, where can I find Naldo?” she asked as politely as she could.
“He left for the south orchards, out by the water tower, about three hours ago. They’re putting in some new rows there.”
“Thanks.”
She grabbed her keys.
Seven
Anna spotted the golf cart Naldo’s father always used to get around the estate-painted burgundy with RDL emblazoned in cream letters-just off the dirt road at the end of a row of newly transplanted trees. He must be out barking orders at the poor peons in his employ.
She tried not to let the sweet rich orange scent dissipate her mood of raw indignation as she strode through the grove. At last she came upon a knot of men digging evenly spaced holes to accept a truckload of new transplants.
She squinted in the bright sun, trying to spot that unmistakably imperious profile amongst the suntanned workers. Then she saw him.
Naldo knelt in the sandy soil, an expression of rapt concentration on his hard features. His broad hands patted the dirt into place around a fragile young transplant. As she watched the tender care with which he treated the plant and the freshly turned earth that held it, her breath caught in her lungs.
The trees are family to us.
She steeled herself against a wave of sappy emotion that would not help her in any way. “Naldo.”
“Anna.” He sat back on his heels. A perplexed frown crossed his forehead, then his eyes narrowed. “You’ve come to apologize.”
“Apologize?” Her blood pressure shot up. “Are you kidding me?”
He looked past her, to where she could still hear the sound of shovels moving the soft soil. “Let’s walk.” He rose to his feet, dusting off his pants.
Dressed all in black, shirtsleeves rolled over his broad forearms to accommodate the afternoon heat, Naldo looked effortlessly elegant. She wore a pretty white sundress she’d found in her mother’s closet. She couldn’t help thinking they must make rather a dashing couple, strolling down the lush rows of perfectly maintained orange trees.
An illusion. Black and white, opposites in every way, she and Naldo had nothing in common other than a vested interest in one dusty acre of land.
“No one will come down these rows,” he said, once the thunking of shovels was no longer audible. He turned to face her.
“You know why I’m here,” she said. “I think it’s pathetic that you sent your sister to talk me into selling out. I wouldn’t have thought that was your style, Naldo, sending a woman to fight your battles. I guess you’ve changed.”
A line appeared between Naldo’s dark brows. “What on earth are you talking about?”
