the strip of coastline,’ one of his team reminded him, clearing his throat to break the trance-like state of his companions. ‘The strip you need to complete the marina, Señor Perez. Surely Señorita Wilson will not require a beach as part of her plans to re-establish the orange groves?’
Annalisa tensed. So that was Ramon’s angle. So much for his concern…his kind words! She would be better off taking Don Alfonso’s advice. At least he was honest! ‘The coastline is not negotiable,’ she said coldly.
‘All things are negotiable,’ Ramon argued amiably.
‘My client has had a lot to take in,’ Don Alfonso said, excusing her with a shrug. ‘I should like a month to look into everything with Señorita Wilson. After which she may well reconsider how much of the land is necessary to her plans and how much is superfluous.’ He gave another shrug as he looked around the table.
Every face swung to Ramon. He nodded briefly. ‘That seems fair, Don Alfonso, but a lot can happen in the time you ask for, so I shall require weekly updates.’
‘We’ll see to it,’ one of his lawyers said, making a note.
‘No,’ Ramon said quietly, planting both hands firmly on top of the table. ‘I’m going to handle this myself.’
Annalisa silenced her gasp. And, staring around, she saw she was not alone in her surprise. The inscrutable faces of the lawyers had slipped just enough to prove that Ramon would normally delegate such an insignificant matter.
‘This is a sensitive case,’ he continued, as if that was explanation enough. ‘And I am keen to achieve a settlement that will satisfy both Señorita Wilson and myself. After all,’ he said wryly, ‘it appears we are going to be neighbours whatever the outcome.’
Sensing the power and determination of her adversary, Annalisa tensed. It was as if a silken net had been cast by so skilled a hand she had barely felt it land on top of her…until it was too late. Swinging away from his knowing glance, she felt her heart thump ominously as Don Alfonso rose from the table. Directing his comments to Ramon, he inclined his head graciously.
‘We are honoured to have your personal input, Señor Perez. I am sure we can reach an amicable agreement. If it is convenient to Señorita Wilson and yourself, I will arrange our first briefing for the same time, one week from today.’
Now it was Annalisa’s turn to be the centre of attention, and again she felt Ramon watching her with that stillness she had already identified as his particular hallmark. ‘That’s fine with me,’ she agreed in a voice that gave nothing away. What else could she say? She was in this to the finish and she had to keep track of Ramon’s designs on her land…maybe even think up a way to barter some of her shoreline in exchange for his water…
As the meeting concluded the tension eased.
‘Lunch?’ Ramon said, directing the question straight at her.
It was the very last thing Annalisa had been expecting. She felt at a disadvantage from every point of view. She needed time to regroup, to recover… ‘Oh, no,’ she said quickly. ‘I’m not even hungry.’
‘Or thirsty?’ he teased gently.
‘I never drink in the middle of the day, Señor Perez.’
‘You mean I can’t even tempt you with a single glass of champagne?’
‘Ah, now you make me wish I was joining you,’ Don Alfonso said as he ushered them both out of the door.
‘Lucky for you he didn’t see that expression on your face,’ Ramon said as he accompanied her across the street.
The touch of his hand on her arm even through two layers of fabric was electrifying. The knowledge that he was only being courteous should have filled her with relief, but shock came first and put a chill in her voice. ‘I never want to hear the word champagne again.’
‘That sounds like a challenge to me,’ Ramon threatened softly.
‘I’m serious.’ But even Annalisa knew her words lacked conviction.
‘For now,’ Ramon murmured, increasing the pressure of his fingers enough to invade her body with warmth in a way that was both seductive and alarming. ‘We’ll stop off for something to eat on the way back to the finca.’
That was a really bad idea! She told him so.
‘Why not? I’ll drive you home.’
And then…? ‘I can take a taxi,’ Annalisa told him, willing her voice to stay firm.
‘Why do that when you don’t have to?’
She stopped and looked up at him. Was it that muscle working in his jaw, the smouldering amusement and confidence in his eyes, or the curve of his lips? Did it even matter? One thing she was sure about. There could be no such thing as a harmless friendship with a man like Ramon Perez.
‘I’m going to take a taxi because you haven’t been straight with me,’ she said, for want of a better excuse. But even as she tried to free her arm from his grip he tightened his hold.
‘What are you talking about now?’ he asked, catching hold of her other arm and drawing her round in front of him.
The tang of warm clean male laced with sandalwood and musk was almost too much to bear. ‘The shoreline…for your marina,’ she said, whipping her head away from the evocative scent.
‘The fresh water for your orange groves,’ he countered lightly.
Annalisa gasped as he cupped her chin in one hand and brought her round to face him again. ‘You didn’t tell me about your plans for a marina,’ she whispered, shutting her eyes tight as his fingers strayed beyond the sensitive area just behind her ear to mesh through her hair.
‘And Don Alfonso didn’t tell you that your father and I were partners…did he, Annalisa?’ Ramon countered, releasing her abruptly.
She had been right to accept that intuitive warning. Ramon was a man that any woman would need an anaesthetic to resist. She took a moment or two to steady her nerves. ‘I’m not sure… I—’
He cut in impatiently. ‘And that’s not the only piece of vital information he failed to give you. Is it, Annalisa?’
She shared his irritation at the incompetence of her lawyer, but a peculiar loyalty to someone who had once worked for her father prevailed. She wouldn’t get rid of Don Alfonso. She would just have to mug up on Spanish law in her spare time. Spare time? That was a joke! ‘Don Alfonso hasn’t had a chance to fill me in on every detail,’ she said casually, noting the look of suspicion in his eyes.
‘You don’t know much about your father, do you, Annalisa?’ he pressed shrewdly.
‘No, I—’ She flicked her wrist in a gesture that suggested she didn’t want to either, at this late stage.
‘If you intend to live in his house…employ his workers…make your home in the village where he was born—’
‘Surely the approach I take where that is concerned is up to me?’
‘OK,’
