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‘Gladly,’ Rosie admitted, ‘but as you have yet to prove that you’re either of those things...’
His laugh cut her off. ‘You’re a source of constant amusement to me,’ he admitted. ‘I never know what to expect from you next.’
‘Goodnight?’ she suggested. Turning on her heels, she headed for the door.
‘We’ll continue our tour at six o’clock sharp.’
‘It’s barely light then—’
‘It’s light enough,’ he ruled. ‘I have many other things to do. I’m a very busy man, señorita. I can’t hang around here for ever.’
Thank goodness.
‘Goodnight,’ he said.
As his firm mouth tugged in the suspicion of a smile, she shrugged. She’d been dismissed, Rosie gathered. She was careful to close the door behind her with barely a click, when the urge to slam it in Don Xavier’s mocking face was overwhelming.
* * *
He was up well before dawn the next morning. He hadn’t slept. He hoped Señorita Clifton had enjoyed a similarly disturbed night. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, furious to have her intrude on his thoughts first thing. All night, he conceded. She had been in his head all night.
If things had been different between them, their differences could have been settled in bed, but that wasn?
??t an option with Rosie Clifton, who was so obviously enjoying giving him the runaround. She was testing her female power; something new to her, he suspected. When they’d first met she was uncertain, yet controlled, but now those amethyst eyes flashed fire at him on a regular basis. He liked that. He liked her. She was as fiercely determined as he was to see her plans through. She would make a worthy opponent in any dispute, which would make the pleasure, when she finally admitted defeat and accepted a settlement for her half of the island, all the sweeter. It would certainly please him to escape the parent trap his aunt had laid.
* * *
Okay. Stay cool, Rosie directed herself as Don Xavier came out of the house. If he’d been stunning in those cut-off shorts, he looked even better in banged-up denim that fitted snugly on his hips and, um, lower body...desert boots, and a close-fitting top that hinted at the muscular torso her memory could so readily supply. His inky-black hair was thick and tousled. His stubble was dense and sharp. He was dark and powerful, threatening and sexy in an immediate and very potent way. He looked as if someone had lit his blue touch paper this morning. But would she have the sense to stand back from the explosion?
‘Good morning,’ he called out.
Even his voice was virile.
‘Good morning!’ she responded brightly with what she hoped he would accept was an innocent smile. Did he remember how it felt to accidentally touch each other, or to hold her as he steadied her on her feet? Did he remember those glances between them that had held for several dangerous beats too long? Had he tossed and turned all night as she had? She could only hope—
‘Ready for the tour?’ he demanded, striding up to her.
‘Absolutely,’ she confirmed briskly. ‘Shall we go?’
‘Lead the way.’
As he drew alongside, her gaze brushed appreciatively over him again; once was never enough. It would have been so much safer to share her inheritance with a wizened old man, or even a pipe-and-slippers man, rather than this wild-haired brigand, who managed to look even more disreputable this morning than he had when he strode out of the sea. She wished she’d tried a little harder with her own appearance, but lack of sleep and determination not to be late for the tour had led to her grabbing the first thing that came to hand, which happened to be an ancient top and even older shorts.
This isn’t a fashion show, Rosie reminded herself, but just the start of some cold-blooded negotiations.
Really? Then, why was it so hard to concentrate?
Because she kept thinking back to Don Xavier taking his shower this morning. She’d been making coffee in the kitchen just a few feet below him when she heard the water running. She’d stilled, picturing him naked, his swarthy face turned up to the spray, eyes closed as he raked back his thick black hair. And then his lean, tanned hands moved on...slowly, down the length of his body, only pausing to map his iron buttocks, and a few other interesting landmarks on the way—
‘Señorita Clifton?’
‘I’m sorry...did I miss something?’
Blinking the erotic daydream away, she stared up into Xavier’s shockingly handsome face. That didn’t help her concentration either. ‘Did you find the coffee I left on the stove?’
He frowned. ‘I did. Thank you.’
‘Good.’ She was reluctant to leave those images in the shower behind, especially when he’d starred in her erotic fantasies all night.
