For pity’s sake don’t turn me out into that—that violent monsoon again!’
‘I’d take pity on anyone who was in danger of being swept away by such wild weather…even you, Rodrigo. It’s pretty grim out there tonight. Anyway…you’re in luck. We’re not fully booked. We’re actually very quiet at the moment.’
Best not tell him he’s the only guest just the same…Unconsciously grimacing, Jenny skirted round her formidably built ex-husband to hastily shut the door against the raging storm.
‘Thanks.’ Reaching out a hand, he squeezed her shoulder as his well-cut lips formed a lopsided smile. ‘It is gratifying to know that you don’t hate me enough to leave me to my fate.’
Parrying the nervous heat that flooded her, she backed up again.
‘I expect you’d like to go straight to your room? You must be dying to get out of those soaking wet clothes.’
Another inconvenient wave of heat suffused Jenny at the remark she’d made. But she’d been referring to the imminent shedding of Rodrigo’s clothes, so it hardly came as a surprise.
‘I am. But first I will have to make a dash back to the car to collect my luggage.’
No sooner was this said than done, and once again Jenny was treated to a perfectly icy blast of arctic cold as she waited for Rodrigo to return with his suitcase, and an expensive calf leather shoulder bag that she knew contained a laptop.
‘You’d better give me your coat,’ she said, making herself wait patiently as he removed his damp trenchcoat and then held it out to her. She desperately wanted to present an appearance of composure, even though inside her feelings easily mirrored the violent chaos of the storm.
A fleeting rueful smile touched Rodrigo’s lips. ‘I don’t want to ruin Lily’s polished wooden floor-boards,’ he remarked.
Hanging the garment on a peg at the back of the door, she saw droplets of icy water from the hem drip rhythmically onto the raffia doormat. ‘I’ll hang it in the utility room in a little while,’ she told him.
The spicy cologne that clung to the material of his coat made a direct assay into her already besieged senses, causing another disturbing skirmish low in her belly. She frowned, hugging her arms over the lilac wool sweater that she’d teamed with well-worn faded blue jeans. ‘So…where’s this meeting you’ve got tomorrow?’
‘Penzance. I was booked into a hotel there, but the roads were treacherous in this storm, and my sat nav stopped working. As I was driving I remembered that Lily had a guesthouse somewhere close by. I didn’t even have to look for it—that was the crazy thing. Believe it or not somehow the place just loomed up before me…It’s a total surprise to find you here.’
He hesitated, as if he was going to add something, and Jenny deliberately smothered the persistent ridiculous hope that doggedly had hold of her heart with a pincer grip.
‘So you only need a room for the one night?’
‘That’s right. And what you said earlier was right too…the Mediterranean is more to my taste.’
‘Then God forbid that you should suffer more than you have to!’ she answered waspishly, turning away. Her insides went crazy when Rodrigo caught hold of her hand.
‘Do you want to make me suffer, Jenny?’ His dark eyes glittered.
Pulling her hand free from his icy cold palm, she dismissively tossed her head. ‘I can assure you that I’ve got far more important things to do with my time. The room’s this way.’
She led him upstairs to the luxurious accommodation at the front of the house, knowing that it was the best room in the building. No matter what had transpired between them as a couple, she knew he had faultless good taste—and she didn’t want him to find flaws in her friend’s much loved business. In the morning he would be treated to something pretty spectacular. When the landscape wasn’t shrouded in mist and dark, or sheeted with blinding incessant rain, he’d find a view that couldn’t fail to stir the senses and feed the soul. Again—despite her personal feelings—Jenny hoped Rodrigo would appreciate it.
Artists, writers, honeymooning couples and folk recovering from illness, divorce or bereavement—they had all stayed in that room, Lily had told her. With its unparalleled vista reflecting the Atlantic Ocean’s dramatically beautiful unpredictability, it was a firm favourite with everyone. And, going by the comments in the visitors’ book, they all swore that the bewitching and haunting wild scenery had definitely worked its magic, making them devotees for life by the time it came for them to leave.
Now, surveying the exotically handsome looks of the man who had once been her husband as he deposited his stylish suitcase and bag on top of the lovingly created silk patchwork quilt on the bed, Jenny saw him glance round the room with little evidence of pleasure or satisfaction on his face. Didn’t he like it? There was a brooding, disenchanted air about him that reminded her that he had seen and done it all, more or less, and since there wasn’t much that could impress him it was probably a waste of time even trying.
On her friend’s behalf, Jenny was affronted. The beautifully presented room, with its plush velvet curtains and matching swags, tasteful designer wallpaper that had cost an arm and a leg, immaculate antique Davenport and sumptuous king-sized bed, complete with bespoke iron bedstead, had taken a large chunk of her friend’s savings to perfect. It was a luxurious and relaxing atmosphere, yet at the same time Lily had managed to retain the old-fashioned English charm that the tourists expected and loved. And, being in the business of interior design, Jenny had been happy to advise her.
After the devastating death of Lily’s sister and her husband in a car crash, Lily had found herself sole owner of Raven Cottage, and she had become absolutely determined to rise above the terrible tragedy she’d suffered and make the guesthouse a resounding success in their memory.
Like Jenny, Lily was no stranger to the bitter and jolting twists of fate that could cut a person off at the knees. That was why the bond between them that had begun all those years ago at school had deepened even more over the last couple of years.
Just before they had entered the room Jenny had flicked a switch to turn on two small antique table lamps either side of the bed, bathing the room in a softly inviting amber glow. As the rain whipped at the old-fashioned windows, and the crashing thunder overhead literally shook the rafters, she thought it would be hard to find a cosier place to shelter from such primitive violent weather. But again she found herself wondering if her jaded ex-husband even had the capacity to appreciate it.
‘So…how come you’ve got a meeting in Cornwall?’ Summoning a determinedly neutral tone, Jenny focused her apprehensive gaze on Rodrigo Martinez—billionaire owner of a chain of spa/hotels that were some of the most exclusive in the world. His carved handsome face, with its deep-set black eyes and spiked ebony lashes still damp from the rain, gave her his full attention. In return, her hungry glance moved helplessly over his arrestingly fit body. A body that suggested a disturbing physicality for which the outer garb of black sweater and jeans was only a thin shield. Rodrigo’s simmering sexuality had fascinated and thrilled Jenny right from the beginning.
‘I’m opening one of my hotels in Penzance,’ he replied, his accent underlined by the husky gravel of his voice. ‘Research tells me it’s a popular area.’
‘So naturally you want to capitalise on it?’
Unoffended,
