The Shameless Life of Ruiz Acosta (4 page)

CHAPTER THREE

Research. And that’s all it would be. I wouldn’t be breaking rule two—no men. I would simply be observing this man from a purely clinical point of view. My ‘Living with a Playboy’ idea would be like one of those fly-on-the-wall documentaries. I wouldn’t be hands-on—I should be so lucky. More, all hands to the pump—gulp—as I try to do my bit to save the agony-aunt column. (Though I can’t deny the thought of living so close to this particular playboy has done wonders for my metabolic rate. I’ve eaten a whole tub of double chocolate chip in anticipation of his return and I can still get into my jeans.)

(Imagine how slim I’d be if we lived together permanently.)

(Not that I’d ever consider living with anyone after my experience with the ex.)

Love life? Vicarious. Active. Very active indeed. Lustful thoughts? Are there any other kind?

And the playboy? This might all be over by tomorrow. He didn’t exactly seem thrilled to see me, and I have yet to discover how he feels when he returns from the gym to find I’m still here.

HAVING finished her London diary entry, Holly was still tinkering with her first ‘Living with a Playboy’ feature when Ruiz arrived back. The new headline looked fabulous on the top of the agony-aunt column. If that didn’t attract reader interest, nothing would.

She listened as Ruiz went into one of the bathrooms to take a shower and tried her hardest not to imagine him stripped naked. That proved a lot harder than she’d thought. The secret of successful cohabiting was not getting in Ruiz’s way, Holly concluded, tensing as the shower turned off. If she was going to make a success of the ‘Living with a Playboy’ feature, she had to make sure Ruiz didn’t think of her as a nuisance, always watching him and asking questions. She wasn’t in any danger, she told herself repeatedly, counting the seconds until he entered the room, since she had vowed off men, and anyway there was no chance Ruiz would look at her that way. The main thing was not to give him an excuse to throw her out if she was going to make him the subject of her column.

Buttering-up time had arrived. While he’d been gone she had tidied away all her things and knocked up a tasty soup, using the fresh ingredients she had bought earlier. She’d also made sure there was plenty of ice for the large gin and tonic she guessed a sophisticated man like Ruiz might want, and had even put on some make-up—not very expertly, and certainly not enough to suggest she was after him. She hoped that assuming the role of unthreatening temporary lodger might work. She would even play housekeeper at a stretch. She’d do anything to salvage her career. She’d even iron a few shirts if she had to. She couldn’t see any man objecting to that. Whatever it took for Ruiz to agree to become the subject of her column, Holly told herself tensely, flinging herself down in front of her laptop when she heard him advancing on the kitchen.

Living with a Playboy

Well, here I am, living the dream—or nightmare—not sure which it’s going to be yet. I should know more if I survive these next few minutes.

I don’t think I could have engineered living with a playboy. Who could, unless they wanted to be a rich man’s plaything? And I can’t say that’s ever appealed to me. But I will do my best to keep a roof over my head until I can make alternative arrangements. I don’t particularly like myself for being so cold-blooded about this, but it’s the only solution I can see to keep my job right now.

To make up for my scheming I’m going to be the best housemate anyone could have—at least, that’s what I keep telling myself. But the first time the playboy brings home a playmate I’m guessing I might show another side of myself altogether. It’s not that I’m interested in him, and he certainly isn’t interested in me. This is all in the line of duty, and—

Lowering the lid on her laptop, Holly arranged her face in a welcoming smile and stood up to greet Ruiz. Enter Ruiz: dark, glowering, massively powerful, and stunningly attractive. ‘Hello,’ Holly said brightly. ‘I hope you had a good session at the gym?’

As Ruiz angled his head slightly to stare at her Holly realised she would never be able to keep this up. Faced by so much pumped and bulging muscle and with his thick black hair still damp from his shower, she knew she couldn’t live with Ruiz as a passive observer without going completely off her head. ‘Drink?’ she enquired. Was that piping voice really hers? ‘Gin and tonic, perhaps …?’

‘A beer would be good.’

‘Beer it is, then.’

‘You’re unusually compliant, Holly,’ Ruiz observed, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

She made a dismissive gesture. ‘I’m just feeling a little guilty that I didn’t make the connection between you and Lucia right away. When we first met at the café?’ she prompted.

‘I didn’t make the connection either,’ Ruiz pointed out. ‘And Lucia told you what exactly about her brothers?’

Holly blushed. The thought of even the smallest part of what Lucia had told her about her brothers was enough to make the hair stand up on the back of her neck. ‘You must be stressed out and tired,’ she said to change the subject, ‘and frustrated that you haven’t got the private space you anticipated, but—’

‘Breathe,’ Ruiz suggested dryly.

Ruiz’s dark gaze washed over her in a way that made her bones melt. She had dressed carefully—demurely—on purpose, Holly realised now, in a pair of baggy jeans and a shapeless old shirt, so as not to draw attention. She suspected Ruiz knew exactly what she’d done, and that he also knew she was suffering a very female response to his extremely masculine assessment.

‘Where’s that beer you promised me?’

Maybe this subservient domestic goddess role was going to be a little harder than she thought, Holly reflected, realising she was still gazing at Ruiz. ‘Coming right up,’ she said, forcing her feet to walk away.

Her hands were shaking by the time she got to the fridge and her heart was beating like Thor’s hammer. How on earth was this going to play out? Her bright idea of making a column out of living with a playboy didn’t seem so clever now. Being sneaky didn’t suit her, and a high-flyer like Ruiz would hardly want Holly sharing details of his private life with the general public. But she had to live somewhere. She had to earn a living. And this was the best, the only idea she had come up with to date.

‘Thank you.’ His gaze lingered on Holly as he took the beer. He’d run the shower on its lowest setting to try and knock some sense into his head, but innocence was a potent drug. He noticed her hands were shaking and guessed Holly was still reeling from the messy relationship Lucia had told him about and didn’t trust her judgment where men were concerned. No problem for him. He could resist the lure of an unexpected visitor, however attractive she might be.

‘Are you hungry, Ruiz?’

The punch to his solar plexus when she turned to look at him caught him by surprise. ‘Starving.’

‘You’re in a better mood since you got back from the gym,’ she observed as she vigorously stirred the soup.

‘Yes, dear,’ he mocked her lightly.

‘And here was me thinking you might have knocked some of that frustration out of your system at the gym.’ She blushed and stopped talking abruptly, but he knew she was referring to his ill-tempered arrival at the penthouse.

Lifting the bottle in a toast to her back, he drank it down. He had dressed casually after his shower in a pair of jeans and an old, faded blue sweatshirt, which he felt comfortable in around the house. Holly was barefoot in jeans and a pale blue shirt, which he found both casual and appealing. She was wearing hardly any make-up and had a tea towel tucked into the waistband of her jeans like someone who loved cooking and didn’t care who knew it. She looked great. The pale blue shirt suited her, and he had to try very hard not to notice that it was straining over her breasts.

‘Sure soup is going to be enough for you?’ she asked, avoiding his gaze.

‘For now.’

Opening the fridge, he found it stocked with fresh ingredients and a line of cold beer. ‘Soup smells good,’ he observed, joining Holly at the cooker. ‘I usually call for take-away when I’m in London, unless I’m eating out—’ He was staring at the back of her neck, longing to drop kisses on it. She had brushed her hair to one side, leaving the soft skin temptingly exposed, and he was standing close enough to see it had the texture of a peach. ‘Are you sure you want to share your supper?’ he murmured, thinking of anything but soup.

‘I can’t drink the whole pan full myself.’ She turned to stare at him.

‘I’ll get some spoons,’ he said, breaking away first, knowing that if he didn’t he would have to take her to bed.

‘I’m sorry for our rocky start this evening, Ruiz. I hope the soup makes up for it.’

‘I’m sorry too,’ he said. ‘I was hardly Señor Charming earlier.’ She was a friend of his sister’s, he told himself sternly. It was his duty to be nice to her. Equally, it was his duty not to seduce her. ‘Why don’t we forget it and start over? Minestrone.’ He hummed with appreciation. ‘My favourite.’

‘Really?’ She seemed surprised. ‘I had you down as more of a vichyssoise man.’

‘Oh, please. Do you think I have my newspapers ironed before I read them too?’

‘I’ll be sure to be up early enough to do so, sir.’

‘Be sure you are,’ he teased, holding the emerald gaze until her cheeks flushed red.

A friend of his sister’s? His good intentions where Holly was concerned weren’t holding up too well, Ruiz concluded, registering the pressure in his jeans. ‘Hurry up, I’m hungry,’ he commanded mock-sternly, hoping that by adopting the role of master of the house he would distract them both.

Holly smiled and shook her head. ‘Do you treat all your staff like this?’

‘My staff?’ he queried.

‘The people you pay to do things for you,’ she teased him.

‘Was that supposed to be a joke?’ he countered, finding he couldn’t bring himself to avoid the extraordinary green gaze and that he really didn’t want to.

‘What do you think?’ She laughed.

‘I think you like living dangerously, Ms Valiant,’ he said quietly.

Holly’s smile died. He got the distinct impression that this brush with a man who really liked her was too much too soon for Holly. ‘Do you think Bouncer would like some soup?’ she asked him in a decidedly humourless tone.

‘If you sprinkle cheese on it I doubt he could refuse,’ he said, matching Holly for matter-of-factness. This was like trying to win the trust of a damaged pony. He couldn’t lay his cards on the table—tell her she was beautiful and that he wanted her. He had to earn her trust and wait for Holly to come to him. She was graceful, he thought as she dipped low to feed the dog. She was kind and gentle and funny too. This was proving to be an unexpected distraction and he was enjoying tonight more than he could possibly have imagined.

‘I realise this must be awkward for you,’ she began as she straightened up.

‘Awkward?’ he queried.

‘Living together like this,’ she explained. ‘I’m not exactly experienced when it comes to flatmates.’

He doubted she was experienced in any sense. ‘Don’t worry. You won’t be seeing a lot of me.’

She laughed. ‘Can I have that in writing, please?’

‘And when I’m here I promise to keep out of your way,’ he added.

‘That’s all I need to know,’ she said, but her darkening eyes told a different story.

As they settled down to drink the soup together either side of the kitchen table it occurred to him that, as Lucia’s friend, Holly was practically an honorary member of the family and so deserving of his protection, which was ironic when what she needed was protection from him.

‘Soup okay, Ruiz?’

‘It’s delicious,’ he said. It was. And when she smiled like that, looking so relieved and happy, he knew that Holly was as oblivious to her talents as she was to her beauty. It was when she cut a fresh slice from the crispy loaf, saying, ‘I like a man with a healthy appetite,’ that he had to reach for the butter and pretend he hadn’t heard what she’d said. ‘Hey, Bouncer.’ He called the dog to draw the spotlight off her. ‘Are you snoring?’ he suggested as the big mutt grunted in his sleep.

‘You’re asking questions of a sleeping dog?’ Holly enquired, watching him chin on hand.

‘Is that permitted?’ he teased, thinking how beautiful her eyes were.

Shaking her head, she smiled. ‘I think you love that dog. Don’t worry, I’ll clear up,’ she said, pushing her chair back.

‘Let me help you,’ he offered, realising how much he wanted to be close to her.

One step at a time, Holly thought, feeling heat curl low inside her when Ruiz brushed past her at the sink. Now, if she could just control that heat and direct it into building a friendship with Ruiz everything might work out fine.

‘Why don’t you tell me something about the gap between school with my sister and now?’ Ruiz suggested casually, taking her off guard as they loaded the dishwasher together. ‘You can leave out anything you don’t want to talk about.’

‘That would mean leaving out most of it,’ she said, trying to make a joke of things she really didn’t want to remember. ‘And I’d much rather talk about you.’

‘I’m sure you would,’ Ruiz agreed dryly, easing onto one hip.

‘A playboy makes a much more interesting topic of conversation than the life of a would-be journalist,’ Holly pointed out.

‘A playboy?’ Ruiz queried. ‘Is that how you see me?’

‘That’s how the world sees you.’

‘Really?’ His lips pressed down. ‘It seems a rather old-fashioned term for a man who works hard for a living.’

‘A man who lives like this,’ Holly interrupted him, glancing round the designer kitchen. ‘Most people would find it fascinating.’

‘That’s only because they don’t know the truth about the boring slog associated with getting to this point,’ Ruiz assured her with amusement.

‘And if they did?’ she said carefully.

‘What are you getting at, Holly?’

‘Can I be honest with you?’

‘I hope you’re always honest.’

She braced herself. ‘The column I’m working on is failing. If it has any chance of surviving it needs something different, something unique, to draw people in.’