Arden tilted her head back and let the water sluice the suds from her hair. Well, it wasn’t going to work! The bastard had caught her off guard, which was why she hadn’t slapped his face, but he’d damned well better not try it again. If he so much as touched her, she’d jam her knee into that part of his anatomy where it would do the most good. Growing up in Greenfield had taught her something, by God!
At least she hadn’t had to deal with him the past week. Conor had left the house early each morning, before anyone was up, and come back late, long after dinner was finished.
That was fine with Arden, but Linda clearly missed him.
‘Poor Conor,’ she’d pouted last night. ‘He’s never here. Why must he be the one to inspect the cattle and the crops? If there is work to be done, surely you have men who can do it?’
Felix had glowered across the table at his stepdaughter. ‘Someone must supervise the men, Linda. There was a time I would have done so, but now I am trapped in this chair. If my nephew wants to pretend he is Master here, let him do his duty.’
‘Yes, but when will I see him again?’
‘Stop whining,’ the old man had snapped, and the girl’s face crumpled.
Arden sighed as she shut off the water and stepped on to the mat. She had no idea how long Conor’s visit to El Corazon would last. She kept hoping that one morning she’d come downstairs and Felix would announce that his nephew was gone for good, but until that day came, the less she saw of Conor Martinez, the better—which was why she was not going to hang around the house today. Besides, today was her day off and she was going to make the most of it.
‘Twenty-four hours for yourself, Miss Miller,’ Felix had said crisply when he’d hired her, ‘and not a minute more. I do not care where you spend your time, nor how, so long as you are here when you are supposed to be.’
‘Of course,’ Arden had answered politely.
She smiled a little as she toweled herself dry. What she’d really wanted to say was that she could hardly quarrel with such a rule when any fool could see she’d be spending her days off right here, at the finca. Where could she go, without a car? Even if she’d had one, the dirt road that had brought her here went nowhere else, unless she’d wanted to pay a visit to San José—and she had no wish to do that.
But there was nothing wrong with spending her days off at El Corazon. Arden tossed aside the towel, fluffed her fingers through her hair, and strode into the bedroom. Alejandro hadn’t exaggerated the estate’s attractiveness. The pool was Olympic-size and surrounded by comfortable lounging chairs, and the garden that embraced the house was magnificent, filled with spectacular orchids and frequented by tropical birds of incredible variety and splendour.
She pulled open a bureau drawer and rifled through its contents. There was a wealth of other attractions, too. The library was comfortable and stocked with all sorts of books in English as well as Spanish, and there was a music room opposite that held a piano and a compact disc player and more CDs than she’d ever seen outside of a record shop.
And if she tired of reading or listening to music or swimming laps in the pool, she could always walk the grounds of the estate or even ride them on one of El Corazon’s handsome horses. Learning to ride had been one of the few benefits of growing up in a town like Greenfield. An industrious teenager could always trade an afternoon spent mucking stalls for a couple of hours on horseback.
But today, Arden thought as she took a white bathing suit from the drawer, today she was going to play it safe. She wasn’t going to stay around the house, where a face to face encounter with the overbearing Senor Martinez was almost a certainty. She pulled on the suit, then walked to the mirror and peered into it, frowning as she adjusted the straps of the high cut maillot.
She was going to spend her day at a place that seemed to have been forgotten by everyone at El Corazon, a crystal lake with a white sand bottom that lay a ten-minute walk from the house. She had found it one afternoon, when Felix was napping under his nurse’s supervision, after she’d followed an overgrown path through a dense tangle of bougainvillaea and wild rose. She’d almost turned back when the flowers seemed to become an impenetrable wall—and then the wind shifted and she’d caught a glimpse of a clearing with the sky reflected in a lake of sapphire-blue.
Arden drew her damp hair back from her face and worked it into a French braid. She’d have been sitting at that lake an hour ago, but she’d waited until she was sure breakfast was finished before going down in order to avoid Conor. Why start her day off with something unpleasant?
She glanced at the clock. It was almost nine, and by now the maid would have cleared the last of the breakfast buffet from the sun-room. A book borrowed from the library, a snack of fruit and cheese from the kitchen, and she’d be all set. It would be peaceful and quiet down by the water and, best of all, she wouldn’t have to even think of Conor until dinner. All she needed now were her sunglasses—and there they were, on the table near the window...
Arden paused as she reached for the glasses. There was Linda now, making her way to the pool, wearing a bikini that was little more than three triangles of fuchsia silk held together by pink ribbon. She dropped a towel and a bottle of lotion beside a white lounger, then lay down carefully, arranging her hair so it fanned over her shoulder, lifting one leg so its symmetry would show to advantage. It was an artful performance, but for whose benefit? Surely she was alone.
No. She wasn’t. Conor was there, too, coming not from the house but. from the garden, wearing nothing but a pair of faded cut-off denims.
Arden’s breath caught. She might have known he’d look this way, his body tautly muscled and perfect under sun-bronzed skin, his hips narrow, his legs long and powerful, giving him the easy, flowing walk of a thoroughbred stallion. And that was what he was, a thoroughbred who would use his charm to get women into his bed as readily as he’d used it to get his hands on his uncle’s money.
Conor came to a dead stop. A frown creased his face; he cocked his head to the side and then, slowly, he looked up.
Arden’s hand flew to her throat and she shrank back against the wall. He couldn’t see her, she knew that. There were sheer curtains across the glass and the sun was reflecting on the pane. Still, he was staring at her window, and if she hadn’t known better she’d have thought he was staring right into her eyes.
She took a deep breath, and then another. ‘Stop being so silly,’ she whispered.
Still, she waited motionless while the seconds passed until finally Conor gave his head a little shake, tucked his hands into his pockets, and continued walking towards the pool.
Arden exhaled sharply. This was ridiculous! The man was making her crazy. Well, she wasn’t going to let him. People could say that Conor Martinez was the Master of El Corazon, but it was meaningless. Felix was in charge here, and...
She went very still. Conor paused beside the lounger and said something to Linda, who nodded and pointed to the bottle beside her. He smiled, took it, then squatted beside her and splashed some liquid into the palm of his hand. With long, slow strokes, he began applying it to Linda’s shoulders. She smiled, then stretched as sensuously as a well-fed cat. Her hands went to her hair and plunged into it; she held the dark mass up and away from her shoulders. The action made her breasts lift towards Conor. He paused, touched his hand lightly to the girl’s cheek...
Arden spun away from the window, snatched an oversized white T-shirt from the chair, and tugged it over her head.
Let Conor Martinez and his ladyfriend play whatever games they liked, she thought as she wrenched open the door. She certainly wasn’t going to stay around and watch.
Arden sighed and rolled lazily on to her belly. The sand was warm, the sun hot, and her toes were just far enough in the water so that she was aware of the delicious contrast in temperatures. All in all, she felt relaxed and content.