The Shameless Life of Ruiz Acosta (5 page)

He looked at her for a moment, and then he said, ‘Oh, no.’

‘Please let me finish,’ she begged him. ‘I’m proposing to write a fictional piece to head up the column and build reader numbers. I’ve always kept a personal diary,’ Holly explained, ‘and this would be a public extension of that—half serious, mostly poking fun at me, ordinary Holly Valiant, living with a glamorous playboy.’

‘No,’ Ruiz said flatly.

‘It was just an idea—’

‘You’re not ordinary and I’m not glamorous.’

But Ruiz seemed glamorous to her with his wild, thick black hair and swarthy complexion. He was darkly dangerous and dangerously sexy. And readers would love him. He was standing very close—close enough to touch—close enough for her senses to pick up on his mood. It wasn’t anger she sensed, but something a lot more worrying.

‘And I’m certainly not a playboy,’ he added, moving away.

‘But who’s to know that?’ she pressed.

‘I can see I’ll have to watch what I say to you in future, Holly Valiant.’

So it wasn’t a complete no, Holly thought, feeling excitement build inside her. ‘I would never write anything derogatory about you.’

‘I should think not …’ And why was he even giving her this much of an opening? It might amuse him to read it, Ruiz reasoned. ‘So is all this talk about a new column just a ruse to get out of telling me about your past?’

‘If I tell you about my past you’ll be asleep in five minutes,’ Holly assured him. ‘Why don’t you start the ball rolling?’ she suggested. ‘Just make sure you leave out anything you don’t want to see in print,’ she added, tongue in cheek.

He stared at her for a moment, and then he laughed. ‘Touché, Ms Valiant.’

‘
En garde
, Señor Acosta.’

She made him laugh. She made him relax. She made him realise he could enjoy being with a woman without taking her to bed. Who knew? Ruiz mused wryly.

An hour into their chat and they were still going strong. It turned out she did have a talent for teasing out interesting facts, after all. Ruiz had relaxed enough to laugh when she told him about some of her more colourful teenage years. ‘There was the home perm, the fake tan incident, and the gothic fright phase that almost got me thrown out of school. I tried to dye my red hair black, and it turned out green.’

When Ruiz pulled a face his sexy mouth pressed down in the most attractive way. ‘So what did you get up to?’ she pressed.

‘Do you mean, what can I tell you about?’ Ruiz shook his head as he accepted the challenge. ‘I ran away to the pampas when I was about fifteen. When you live on an
estancia
the size of a small country there is only the pampas to run away to.’

‘Lucky you.’

‘I didn’t think so, aged fifteen.’

It was just another form of isolation, Holly mused, thinking back to her own uncertain teenage years.

‘I lived like a wild boy off the land.’

And she could picture him with limbs as brown as the parched earth he rode across, and his frame as lean as the predators that circled his campfire each night. ‘Weren’t you afraid?’

‘I was too young to know fear. I was fit and strong, and thought myself invincible.’

She couldn’t breathe for a moment, and then the dark eyes that had been dancing with laughter one moment stilled as Ruiz levelled a brooding stare on her face. Lifting one lock of her hair, he curled it around his finger. ‘I can’t believe you tried to dye your beautiful hair, or that you risked turning it into a frizz with a perm.’

‘Risked?’ Holly queried, pulling back, wishing she were ready for this and accepting she might never be. ‘My hair not only frizzed, it fell out. I thought it would never grow back.’

‘You thought no man would ever look at you again?’ he suggested.

‘It isn’t easy being a teenager—for anyone. So, what were you like?’ she pressed. ‘I mean when you grew out of the running-away-to-the-pampas stage?

‘In my early twenties I was insufferably arrogant.’

‘No?’ Holly mocked. ‘I find that impossible to believe.’

He laughed. ‘Believe,’ he assured her. ‘I was quite ridiculous. And rude.’

‘But you’re so polite now.’

‘Why, thank you. I guess my manners managed somehow to survive those years. I have my older brother Nacho to thank for them. He was always very strict with us.’

‘Tell me about him,’ Holly pressed. ‘Tell me about the band of brothers and your sister Lucia.’

‘You probably know Lucia better than I do.’ But he told her how they all felt they owed everything they were and everything they had to Nacho, who had stayed to raise his siblings when their parents had died in a flood.

How could she not warm to this man? Holly wondered as Ruiz’s massive shoulders eased in a regretful shrug while he tried and failed to recover memories of his parents from his early childhood. The more she learned about him, the harder it was going to be to live with him and keep things light—let alone write about him with any form of impartiality. Tugging her feet free from Bouncer’s furry weight, she left the table for the relative security of the sink. ‘I’ll finish clearing up,’ she offered. ‘You can go and—’

‘I can go and … what?’ Ruiz murmured.

He was standing right behind her, Holly realised, quivering as she felt the caress of Ruiz’s breath on her neck. She started to launch into some excuse to move away, but Ruiz was way ahead of her. ‘Goodnight, Holly,’ he said. ‘And thanks for supper. It was great.’

CHAPTER FOUR

Reality bites.

Love life.

Lustful thoughts.

THE headings for her personal diary were as far as she got. She would have to change her way of working, Holly decided. She didn’t want to think too closely about reality where her love life was concerned when the only love life she wanted was one she didn’t have the courage to embrace and couldn’t have anyway. She would confine her writing to her fictionalised column in
ROCK!
It didn’t hurt so much. She couldn’t bring herself to be flip or even name the deeper feelings Ruiz had stirred inside her.

‘There’s no hope for you, Holly Valiant,’ she told her reflection in the bedroom mirror. ‘You are a lost cause where men are concerned.’ But with fair weather and a following wind she might still become a reasonable journalist one day. Opening the lid on her laptop, she began to write.

The playboy has just moved in, so now we are sharing the same living space courtesy of a humungous screw-up on the part of his sister, my best friend. It’s a fabulous penthouse overlooking the River Thames, the Houses of Parliament, and every other iconic London building you can think of—I can see them all from my bedroom window as I write to you. One day in and I can already tell you that playboys are just like the rest of us … but I know that’s not what you want to hear. You want to hear about the fabulous lifestyle, the sex, the drama, and all the extravagance—for that’s how the playboy life appears to us mere mortals. Whereas owning several homes, a couple of private jets, and having the tailor come to call on you is commonplace for the playboy. The only thing I can’t tell you about yet is the sex—it’s too soon—but I have no doubt there will be women flocking round in no time. And I can’t tell you about the tailor, because I made that bit up. But the playboy … that’s another matter. He’s no figment of my imagination. He’s hard and tanned, and stands over six feet tall, with massive shoulders and impossibly strong forearms. His hair is thick, black and wild, like a man who answers to no one, and his eyes are dark and brooding. I’ve never seen his face without a coating of sharp black stubble and his teeth are perfect. You’ll have to imagine my sigh of despondency here, for I am barely five foot three and I’m a redhead. The type you used to call gingers with a hard ‘g’ at school? Plus, I always know the answer to ‘Does my bum look big in this?’ If this rings a bell for you, join me, why don’t you, on my journey of discovery? And I’ll share everything I discover about him here with you.

She could only try, Holly thought, pressing Send. If the team didn’t like the piece they didn’t have to run it. And she couldn’t fight the compulsion to write—or, more truthfully, to write about Ruiz. It was probably going to be the only way she could express her feelings for him.

Since their chat she was seeing Ruiz in a completely new light, as a real man, rather than a fantasy figure. Hearing him go into his own room and close the door, she had crept back into the living room with her laptop. A change of scene usually made ideas flow, but it was hard to imagine she would write any more tonight when her head was stubbornly full of strong arms, and strong tanned hands with lean, elegant fingers. No wonder Ruiz was a world-class polo player. She could so easily imagine those powerful thighs wrapped around the sides of a horse, or those sensitive hands lightly fingering the reins.

How was she supposed to sleep when her head was full of that? Thank goodness she was a realist and could channel all her X-rated thoughts into the column. As far as real life was concerned she had done nothing risky other than sit down and have supper with Ruiz, Holly reassured herself, and where was the harm in that?

‘What do you think, Bouncer?’ she murmured, turning from the makeshift desk she’d created on a table to fluff the animal’s massive ears. ‘At least you’ve got the good sense to maintain a neutral silence,’ she observed wryly as Bouncer adjusted his position on her feet with a contented sigh. ‘I can’t think of a better companion to keep me company through the night than you,’ she told the big dog fondly.

Which was a pity, Ruiz reflected wryly, standing outside the door. Holly was too innocent and too bruised for someone like him to lead astray. Holly believed in love and happy ever after while his hunting instinct was firmly tuned to the here and now. So what now? Was he supposed to go to bed, close his eyes, forget Holly and drift away? Even his dog had changed allegiances.

He should be pleased about that, Ruiz reminded himself, shooting one last glance through the door at the homely tableau Holly had unwittingly created with Bouncer. If someone was going to take care of the dog while he was away, who better than Holly?

Holly almost fell off her chair when a hand touched her shoulder. ‘Ruiz!’ Who else could unfurl a starburst of sensation like that? Holly reasoned, swinging round. ‘Did I wake you?’ she said with concern. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘I saw the light on,’ Ruiz explained.

He was wearing a robe that had fallen open at the front to reveal a torso that would defy her best attempts to describe it to her readers. ‘Ripped, tanned, and shaded with just the right amount of dark hair,’ would fail utterly to do justice to a body that was unique in Holly’s experience. But then she glimpsed the black boxers beneath the loosely fastened belt and knew it was time to look away. ‘I should have remembered to shut the door when I put the light on,’ she said, blushing furiously.

‘It’s good you’re keen about the job,’ Ruiz observed, propping one hip against the end of the table where she was working, ‘but don’t you think you should get some sleep?’

‘I work best at night—and I’m going to bed soon,’ she added in response to his sceptical look.

‘I suppose I should thank you,’ he said.

Ignoring the danger signal that streaked down her spine, she asked him what he meant.

‘I couldn’t sleep either. I thought I might come in here and watch a game on TV. But if you’re working …’

‘You can watch TV. It won’t disturb me.’ And company would be nice, Holly thought, though in Ruiz’s case she had yet to discover if she could concentrate while he was in the room.

‘No, I think bed is better than dozing on the sofa,’ he said, turning for the door. Stretching out a hand, he added casually, ‘Are you coming?’

It was a moment before she realised he wasn’t talking to Bouncer, but to her. ‘Certainly not,’ she exclaimed indignantly.

‘I was only suggesting you should get some sleep—in your own bed,’ Ruiz stressed, to Holly’s hot, burning shame.

‘In a minute,’ she said, bending low over the laptop so that her hair concealed her face. ‘I’ve got a couple of things I need to finish off here first.’

‘Would you like me to read what you’ve written so far?’

‘No, thank you.’ All her yearning and insecurities written to amuse the reader were a little too close for comfort where Ruiz was concerned. She looked up to him standing over her, his eyes dancing with laughter. ‘Have you been reading over my shoulder?’

‘Me?’ he drawled.

‘Yes. You.’ Closing the lid on her laptop, she stood to confront him, which involved some serious neck-craning. ‘I prefer to finesse my work before I show it to anyone. I’d only be sharing bullet points with you at this juncture.’

‘Oh, would you?’ he asked, mocking her suddenly starchy English accent with a chocolaty South American drawl. ‘Well, if you’re quite sure?’ The wicked mouth tugged in a sexy grin. ‘My sister tells me I’m a very good listener …’

‘I’m sure you are,’ Holly agreed, then deflated instantly as Ruiz turned for the door. Why had she driven him away? What was wrong with her? ‘Do you mind if I keep Bouncer with me tonight?’ she said, hardly realising it was an attempt to keep him a moment longer.

‘Be my guest,’ he said with an expression in his dark, laughing eyes that said as far as attempts to stop him leaving her went, this was lame. ‘I’m relieved you and Bouncer get along so well.’

Why were alarm bells ringing? She should have picked Ruiz up on that last remark, Holly realised. She hadn’t agreed to dog-sit Bouncer for him, had she? She had a horrible suspicion that Ruiz had taken her agreement to do this for granted.

She handled relationships with animals better than she did with men, Holly reflected, kneeling down so she could cuddle up to some non-judgmental warmth. ‘Oh, Bouncer, why am I such a clutz when it comes to men?’ She sagged as the door clicked quietly shut.

There was better news for Holly the next morning. The team had not only accepted her first submission to the column, but was delighted and relieved she could deliver a follow-up so quickly. Holly couldn’t help but smile when they showed her the first article in print, with her second article already up on the web site. Early signs suggested that hits on the web site had increased, and they had all gathered round to read what she had to say.

One failed relationship does not a lifetime of disastrous love affairs make. Don’t let it rule your life. Don’t let it dictate what you should expect from life, or restrict what you achieve, says the redhead who doesn’t even register on the playboy’s radar—but who would like to. As you may have suspected, living with a playboy isn’t as straightforward, or as glamorous as it sounds. The playboy may see me as a quirky nuisance, but I have all the same lusts and longings as the most beautiful playgirls we’ve ever featured in ROCK! My trouble is, I waste far too much time wondering how can a girl like me attract a man like that? When the simple answer is: I can’t. And why would I want to, when you and I both know I’m looking for something more than a one-night stand—however memorable that one night stand might be. And it would be memorable. But please don’t think I’m defeated, because after last night’s surprisingly cosy supper chat back at the penthouse I think the playboy and me might have something going on in the friendship department. And friends are one of the most precious things in life, don’t you agree?

There had been friendship between herself and Ruiz last night, hadn’t there? Holly fretted as the team congratulated her. She couldn’t help but keep running over everything Ruiz and she had said to each other, and had to drag herself back to the present so as not to offend her colleagues when they suggested a celebratory lunch at the local coffee bar.

After lunch, she worked until the end of the day on reader problems. Quite a few more had come in by e-mail. All the team had their heads down, and someone suggested readers might have grown in confidence knowing they wouldn’t receive a flip response from someone who was having her own battle with insecurity.

‘Let’s hope this isn’t a flash in the pan,’ Holly told the staffer on her way home that evening, when even he had said well done. She could hardly believe it when the king of the sceptics cracked a smile and winked back at her.

Ruiz had arranged a supper date with a woman who always made him laugh. He sat through it glancing at his watch, wondering what Holly was doing at the penthouse. She didn’t have many friends in London yet, and with the trouble she’d mentioned at work—the predicted early demise of the agony-aunt column—he guessed she must be feeling low. He made some polite mumble in response to the woman sitting opposite him at the high-end restaurant, but they both knew his thoughts were elsewhere.

‘Excuse me, Ruiz.’

He refocused as the woman across the supper table from him touched his hand. ‘Forgive me,’ he responded. ‘It’s been one of those days.’

‘I can see that,’ his blonde companion murmured in a suggestive purr.

‘Do you mind if we cut this short?’ Even the tone of her voice set his teeth on edge, and they both knew the answer to his question. Players in the field could read each other like well-thumbed books and he was tired of playing the field, or whatever this type of civilised prelude to sex was called. ‘Please accept my apologies,’ he said, abruptly standing. ‘I realise I’ve been lousy company tonight.’

His companion didn’t argue.

Two weeks had passed since her first article for the column, and these days she was rising before dawn to start work on her ideas. There didn’t seem to be enough hours in the day now her ‘Living with a Playboy’ feature had been officially declared a success, but at least that made it easier to live with Ruiz. Keeping busy gave Holly less time to regret that she wasn’t a five foot six blonde with more up front than behind, and meant she could channel her energies into the column. Since that night when Ruiz had come back and looked at Holly long and hard as if he were trying to work out what particular brand of sugar and spice she was made of, he had kept away. There had been no more cosy chats. And, of course, that suited her.

No, it didn’t. She had spent most of last night wondering where he had spent the night. Plus, her thoughts on Ruiz’s lady friends were not all worthy of the girl she used to be. She had become an evil shrew and felt an uncontrollable urge to share this with her readers, who were growing in number by the day. It turned out that even so-called nice girls could discover a very different side to their natures when there was a gorgeous man involved …

Glancing at the stack of newspapers piled neatly by the side of the desk she had improvised in the penthouse, Holly knew she must put Ruiz out of her mind for ten seconds, finish her work, and then study the Classified ad section and circle some rooms to let. She couldn’t go on like this. She had to find somewhere to live where she could stand on her own two feet. Frowning as she bent her head over the keyboard again, she completed the advice section for the agony-aunt column and then turned to her next piece for ‘Living with a Playboy’.

I would have stayed in the background as I had intended had it not been for a very expensive pair of designer shoes …

Don’t believe anyone who tells you women are on the same side when there are shoes and a playboy at stake. In this situation it’s a case of survival of the fittest—and I have discovered that I need to have a serious rethink if I’m going to survive.

Honestly, I don’t have a clue. How was I supposed to know that the high-heeled shoes I found dumped in the hallway when I got home from work would lead to a pair of sexy hold-ups artfully draped over the handle of the living room door? Or that the woman reclining on the sofa in a bright pink Basque and a rather scary translucent thong was expecting our mutual friend to walk in rather than me?