to make a judgement yet,’ she said honestly, wondering if her heart would slow down long enough for her to breathe. She had never experienced this sort of reaction to a man before, but Diego Acosta exuded a powerful sexual energy, which for someone with below average experience of men was quite something to take in.
‘Do you expect me to show you around?’ he asked, wincing as he eased his leg.
‘How kind of you to offer,’ she said mildly. She could feel the resentment crackling round him, but she wouldn’t want anyone to see her in pain, either—and at least he wasn’t bundling her back on the next boat. ‘I look forward to hearing everything you can tell me about the island.’
‘I can see this is going to be an interesting trip, Ms Parrish.’
Her composure was shattered by a single, burning glance. ‘My thoughts exactly,’ she agreed, wafting the hair out of her face with a suddenly shaking hand. ‘Shall I put my suitcase in the back?’
Her intention had been to save him the risk of stumbling again, but she’d only managed to create more offence.
‘I’ll take it,’ he snapped, his expression darkening as he swung her heavy bag from the ground as if it weighed nothing.
‘That’s very kind of you. And please don’t worry, Señor Acosta. I won’t be hanging around. This isn’t a pleasure trip for me—it’s purely business.’
‘What else would it be?’ Folding his arms, he leaned his tight hips against the side of the vehicle.
Her heart juddered uncontrollably. Diego Acosta might be the most arrogant man on the face of the earth, but her body liked him—far too much. ‘All I need while I’m here is a map and a bike,’ she explained, doubting any woman could remain immune to quite so much man.
‘A bicycle? On these mountains?’ Resting his stubble-blackened chin on one shoulder, Acosta shot an ironic glance at the jagged peaks surrounding them.
‘A motorbike,’ Maxie explained. ‘Your brother, Ruiz, said you have one on the island?’
‘Did he?’ Diego Acosta replied coolly. Dark eyes narrowed in suspicion as he stared at her. ‘I trust you’re not suggesting I lend you my bike?’
Her stomach tightened as he straightened up to his full, imposing height. ‘I ride a bike at home.’ She had the satisfaction of seeing surprise colour his arrogant gaze, but in the interest of good business she decided not to push too hard on this yet. ‘I quite understand if you’d rather not lend your bike to a stranger—’
‘You haven’t seen my bike,’ he said, with all the confidence of a man who hadn’t met too many women like Maxie before. ‘I think you’d be safer taking the Jeep.’
She recoiled at the put-down, but all she said was thank you. Who liked being patronised? But this wasn’t about Maxie’s pride. She was here for the bride, and to earn the money that kept her father safe and well looked after in a nursing home. Glancing inside the vehicle, she hoped Diego Acosta would take the hint. He might be impervious to the elements, but she was freezing cold and wet. She was glad when he swung the door wide, and launched herself into the welcoming warmth of the luxurious interior.
‘Now we wait for Fernando,’ he announced, bringing the gale from hell with him as he entered the vehicle. Tossing his cane in the back, he swung into the driver’s seat using just the formidable power in his arms.
She hoped they wouldn’t have to wait long. Every part of her was prickling with awareness in the confined space. They were seated so close—too close. To distract herself she reached inside her bag to find her business card. ‘You can check me out on this website.’ She held it out to him. ‘There are plenty of reviews from satisfied clients. I’m sure you won’t be disappointed with the services I offer.’
‘I should hope not.’
Something in Diego Acosta’s voice made heat curl low in her belly in a way that was both inconvenient and inappropriate. Silence was her safest bet, Maxie concluded, noticing he barely glanced at her card before stowing it in a pocket on the door, where it would probably stay until it yellowed.
Fernando joined them soon after, much to her relief. She gripped the seat as they drove off, but she needn’t have worried as Diego Acosta drove with the same arrant confidence with which he appeared to do everything else.
‘How long do you plan to stay, Ms Parrish?’
‘That’s hard to say…’ Her senses sharpened when he met her glance. ‘Except I’ll be as time-efficient as I can be.’ She guessed this was to reassure them both. She had a real sense of invading the dark space of a man who had retreated to this remote island after his accident and who wanted to be alone—and she was in no hurry to stay a moment longer than she had to.
‘How do you normally proceed?’ he demanded.
‘I spend a few days researching the bride’s preferred venue, deciding if it’s viable or not, and then I make suggestions, with photographs to illustrate my thinking.’
‘And when the weather’s like this?’ he said abruptly, making a gesture that encompassed the storm ravaged landscape outside the windscreen. ‘How do you tempt the bride then?’
‘The sky seems to be brightening,’ she pointed out, determined not to be put off at such an early stage. ‘The bride is already in love with Isla del Fuego, Señor Acosta, and please believe me when I say I won’t get in your way.’
‘I can’t see how we can avoid each other on such a small island.’
She tried reasoning that he’d been injured and craved solitude, and yet had been thrown into the path of a wedding—the most social of occasions. No wonder he was climbing the walls. But did he have to kick her on the way?
‘You’re very quiet,’ he observed.
Staring at impossibly strong forearms and powerful yet sensitive hands could do that to a girl. She quickly dragged her gaze away.
‘Are you regretting your decision to arrange a wedding here, Señorita Parrish?’
‘On the contrary, my mind is buzzing with ideas.’ He needn’t know the details.
‘Your name?’ he queried thoughtfully as they slowed to take a bend. ‘It seems familiar to me. Are you sure we haven’t met before?’
‘It’s quite a common name.’ She said this to a soundtrack of Fernando snoring. ‘I’m sure we haven’t met before. I would remember. And I doubt we move in the same circles.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ he said, frowning.
‘Just that I have never been to a polo match and I doubt you crash weddings.’
‘I’m surprised you haven’t added polo to your list of things to do,’ he said sharply. ‘You have been hired to arrange the marriage of a high-profile polo player.’
His concerns on behalf of his brother were understandable. ‘I’ve read a lot about the game, and I’ve watched a lot of films regarding the sport, documentaries—you know.’
‘Which is hardly the same
