“The estate. That’s all it comes down to, isn’t it? Preserving the estate, building the estate, growing the profits. The idea of that one acre not being under your control is a real burr under your saddle isn’t it? Did Ricky tell you I didn’t want the acre mowed?”
Naldo raised an eyebrow. “Yes, he told me. Why don’t you want it mowed? Are you raising hay? Or just raising hell?”
This woman was crazy, no doubt about it. She knelt across from him on the sand with her dress fisted in her lap. Light and shade filtered through the blossom-covered tree and made tracery patterns on her stunning, slender body.
Her bright eyes shone with the fire of her passion. Anna Marcus was passionate in every possible way.
He hid a smile that wanted to sneak across his mouth. Yes, he wanted his acre back, and he’d get it, but not without going through that fire some more. Lucky thing he didn’t burn easily.
“Just making sure we all know where we stand.” On her own cue, she stood and shook out her dress. “I think you should bring the gems back to the cottage.”
A swell of naked lust rolled through him at the sight of those long legs that wrapped around him so perfectly, climbing back into the white cotton dress.
“Need help with the zipper?” He didn’t try to hide the evidence of his arousal.
“I’ve got it.” She zipped up the back without a hitch.
“You would. You don’t need anyone, do you? No wonder marriage didn’t suit you.”
That stopped her in her tracks. She shoved a lock of hair awkwardly off her face. “You don’t know anything about my marriage.”
“No. I don’t. Anything I should know?”
Damn. On the one hand, he was curious. On the other, he didn’t want to know anything at all about Anna and another man. He shifted in the sand, uncomfortable.
“He left me.” She said it quickly, and for once her fire seemed to dim. “I guess you’re right. He left me for someone totally different. Said he wanted someone quiet and nurturing. More submissive.”
“I’m sorry.” The hurt in her eyes tore at his chest. “He was the wrong man for you, because you sure aren’t cut out to be submissive.”
“I guess, like you said, marriage doesn’t suit me.”
“Hey.” He reached for his pants. “Don’t let a bad experience get you down. You just need someone who appreciates you for who you are.”
“I don’t think there’s anyone that crazy.” She tried to sound lighthearted, but it didn’t fool him.
“You’re a woman in a million.”
“Yeah?” She tossed her hair and narrowed her eyes. “Is that why you’re willing to pay four million to get rid of me?”
He couldn’t help laughing. She was right, of course.
At this point he was offering her far more than what the gems, the cookbook and the land were worth. What would it take to make this woman see sense?
It might help if he could keep his damn hands off her for a whole day.
Why was he making love to the daughter of his father’s lover? She was the last woman on earth he should be interested in.
He shook his head. Anna Marcus was definitely having a disturbing effect on him. He’d actually experienced a surge of relief that the jewels were legally hers, otherwise he’d have felt like he was cheating her out of them. And the cookbook, too. He’d originally intended to gloss over that, to have her leave without knowing what the clause in the will really meant.
But he couldn’t do it.
Since he’d gotten to know her again he had a powerful urge to protect her interests and safeguard her rights, even at the expense of the estate-not to mention his own sanity.
No doubt it was just his sense of honor. His father had raised him to do the right thing.
She slipped her feet back into her sandals. Pink soles peeped at him for a tantalizing second as she put them on, before he dragged his eyes away.
He needed to back off and play it cool. The more he came on strong, the more she fought him.
The worst part was how much he enjoyed that. Anna’s fire lit an inferno inside him in a way he’d never experienced with any other woman. He loved the way she stood up to him. That she didn’t fawn and simper and pander over him like so many women who saw him as some kind of trophy, not as a man.
Anna saw him as a man, all right.
And despite his duty to the estate, he couldn’t help seeing her as a woman. A savvy businesswoman who refused to be cheated, a loyal and caring woman who wanted to see her mother’s memory honored, a passionate and sensual woman who called to something stronger than principle and pragmatism.
He could tell she loved the estate, too, that she felt a deep connection to land and the trees.
He snapped his attention away from the hot burst of feeling rushing through his chest.
It was time to be practical. “I’ll send Tom over with the gems when I get back. Then the ball is in your court.” He settled back in the sand with his hands behind his head, trying to look like he didn’t care much one way or the other.
“Good.” She shot him a dirty look that only tickled his libido.
As she stalked back down the row of trees in her unsuitable shoes, he heaved a deep sigh, which brought him no relaxation whatsoever.
He just wanted to put things back the way they should be. The estate whole and entire. The family secrets buried safely where they belonged.
Why did it have to be so hard?
If he didn’t get rid of Anna soon, rumors really would start to fly, and once they got out there’d be no putting that genie back in the bottle. He should be doing everything in his power to make her leave-right now.
Instead, all he wanted to do was run his hands over her silky skin and trace the proud angle of her chin with kisses. To make bone-shaking, earth-tilting love to her again.
And again.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, inadvertently getting a bunch of gritty sand on it. He had sand all over him from head to toe and was lying naked and alone in his own orange grove.
What was wrong with this picture?
Relax. It’s a fair offer. More than fair. She’ll come to her senses, take the money, and go.
The thought made him more uncomfortable than ever.
Eight
The sound of footsteps on the cottage steps roused Anna from a deep night’s sleep. Not really footsteps, more like loud thuds. She sat up, heart pounding.
“Who’s there?”
She squinted against morning sunlight as the bedroom door flung open.
Who else?
Naldo stood in the doorway, fury hot in his eyes. He brandished a tabloid-size newspaper. “What do you mean by this?”
“Get out of my room!” She clutched the covers around herself, more out of instinctive self-defense than modesty.
“I’m not going anywhere until you explain this article.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He flung the paper down on the rumpled bedcover and rapped the page with the back of his hand. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Still sleepy, she squinted, then rubbed her eyes, trying to focus on the tiny newsprint. De Leon Heir in Legal Wrangle was the rather small heading of a short article on page eight.
