Baby Surprise For The Spanish Billionaire

She’d deliberated sailing across alone and not waiting for Leo, but she wanted answers. Nothing added up. Why did a party playboy want to spend a month doing DIY on a tiny island with barely any inhabitants, no nightlife, no fun? And why had he claimed Valentina was his sister when she clearly wasn’t?

She squinted over to the boat, lounging out in the flat sea like the embodiment of entitlement, blowing out a frustrated breath when she saw a tall figure swing over the side and climb down to the dinghy bobbing alongside. Finally.

It didn’t take her long to walk to the end of the jetty, arriving there just as Leo executed a perfect, stylish turn to bring the small open boat alongside. ‘Hop in,’ he called. ‘Unless you need me to help you?’ He held out a hand, which Anna ignored as she stepped gingerly into the boat, seating herself at the furthest end away from Leo. He barely waited until she was seated before releasing the throttle and, with a roar, the boat sped off towards the mainland.

Despite her trepidation Anna found herself relaxing on the short trip, leaning against the back rail enjoying the sun on her face, the splash of the water on her outstretched hand as the boat cut through the sea. In Oxford, she saw students punting or kayaking all the time and yet never made time to get out onto the water herself, which was odd when she remembered just what a water baby she had always been on the island; surfing, windsurfing, boating, swimming until her skin wrinkled, her hair thick with salt.

Steering the boat towards the public harbour, Leo found a mooring spot right next to the main jetty. Small boats bobbed all around, larger cruisers and yachts moored further out in the deeper water. Anna could see the perfect curve of the beach to one side, deserted despite the sun, and the cheerful fronts of the bars and restaurants that lined the shore road behind it. Cala del Mar had seemed like the height of sophistication when Anna was in her teens. Now she saw it as the sleepy, provincial seaside village it was, all the fonder of it for its simplicity.

Leo killed the engine then turned and eyed Anna quizzically as she stayed seated, making no attempt to climb out of the boat. ‘Are you stuck?’

‘Why are you here?’

‘That’s a very philosophical question. Why are any of us here?’ But the laughter drained out of his dark eyes despite the easy smile on his face.

‘You know what I mean. Why have you decided to stay on the island? Why announce your intention of helping? What does the son of the Conde de Olvares want with a tiny island resort? There’s no casino, no nightclub, no supermodels to entertain you.’

‘Someone’s been doing her homework.’ The smile still played around his mouth, but there was an edge to his voice.

Anna raised her chin. ‘It’s all a matter of public record, as is the fact you’re an only child. So why did you tell me Valentina was your sister?’

The smile disappeared, his eyes hardening to flints. ‘Because she is. And she wants the perfect wedding and I am going to make sure that happens. Any other questions, Sherlock Holmes, or shall we get on with the matter at hand?’ And without looking at Anna he climbed out of the boat and started along the jetty, head high, back ramrod straight. Anna stared at the set shoulders, the jerky stride. Somehow she had touched a nerve without getting any of the answers she sought and although Leo was the one lying, or at least omitting information, Anna felt as if she was the one in the wrong.

She blew out a frustrated breath before getting carefully to her feet and stepping out of the boat onto the dusty jetty. This wasn’t over and she would get her answers. Leo di Marquez was playing some kind of game and Anna wasn’t going to stop until she had worked out just what he was up to.

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_0549abc2-c942-55c5-aa7b-ac29e9f18363)

LEO STEPPED BACK and surveyed the wooden wall, an unexpected pride swelling his chest. If he said so himself it looked rather professional. Sanding, filling and painting were proving to be unexpectedly soothing, each finished wall or window frame a tangible achievement in a way a successful deal or investment no longer seemed to be. Maybe that was because money was such an abstract thing. He didn’t exactly sit counting gold coins, had more than enough, even for his fairly lavish needs.

Leo put the paintbrush back on the tray and stretched before reaching for his task list, a wry grin curving his mouth as he scanned the typed list, complete with timings and required equipment. Anna had, with the help of her trusty notebook, worked out a plan. A plan, Leo had not failed to notice, which kept him at one side of the island and her at the other. Nor could he help noticing that she no longer broke for lunch, and although she joined Sancia, himself and the staff for dinner she was usually distracted, spending the meal making even more lists or researching fixtures and fittings rather than joining in the conversation. He had a strong suspicion she was avoiding him.

Como sea. Let her keep her distance. Sure, he had enjoyed the brief one-sided flirtation, had thought it might be amusing to—metaphorically at least—unbutton the terminally uptight doctor, but there were limits to even his amusement and those limits had been reached when Anna had rounded on him with a scornful expression he knew only too well. It was the same expression he saw on his parents’ faces. The expression he sometimes saw in the mirror.

Still, over the last few days he had almost reached a state of contentment. It was repetitive work, this washing, sanding, filling and painting, but it had an end goal. Each task added up to a whole, a newly restored bungalow. Well, an almost restored bungalow because along with the repainting of the outside Leo was making a list of all the more specialised tasks that needed doing: the dripping taps, the underperforming showers, the broken tiles, the holes in roofs.

Right now it was just he and Anna with their buckets and ladders and paintbrushes. At the start of next week they would be joined by the seasonal staff including three more groundsmen and, for a week, a plumber, a joiner and a builder. That would leave two weeks for any internal repainting, replacement of furniture and adding in all the extras Valentina and her friends would expect to find in a luxury hotel. Anna seemed to spend any time she wasn’t painting flicking through lifestyle blogs and upmarket magazines, every session resulting in even more copious notes and yet another list.

The full-time groundsman and maid were equally hard at work on the public and communal areas. With three separate beach bars as well as the main bar and restaurant, two lounges and the beautiful central pagoda, where the marriage ceremony was to be carried out, they had their work cut out and Maria, the maid, was volubly looking forward to the arrival of her seasonal counterparts to help share the load. The island might shut over the winter, but it still seemed like a particularly sparse skeleton staff when the off season was surely the time to refresh and repair?

How on earth had this place survived over the last few years? Sancia swung from relaxed to mildly concerned—on the surface anyway—but Leo occasionally saw a flash of worry in the dark eyes when yet another dozen items were added to Anna’s seemingly inexhaustible lists.

‘Here, Sancia sent this for you.’

A soft voice pulled him away from his thoughts and Leo turned, list still in hand, to see Anna standing under the shade of the overgrown copse of trees. His breath caught. Her mass of dark hair was pulled up into a ponytail, she wasn’t wearing a scrap of make-up and her cut-off denims and simple navy T-shirt were strictly utilitarian yet a quiver of attraction still ran through him.

His gaze dropped to the tray she clasped tightly in her hands. It held a plate heaped with a roll, sliced meat and fresh tomatoes and a bottle of beer.

Anna held it out towards him. ‘You missed lunch.’

Leo glanced at his watch. Sure enough it was nearly three. ‘I got a little carried away.’

‘Obviously.’ She took a step nearer, eyes crinkled as she looked critically at the walls. ‘It’s looking good though.’

‘Does that surprise you?’

‘Yes,’ she said and, jolted by surprise, Leo looked at her.

‘Okaaaay...’ he said slowly.

‘I thought you’d get bored after a couple of days, or you would spend most of your days lounging around on your boat, spend an hour with a paintbrush in your hand and expect us to fall at your feet in gratitude. But, you have more than pulled your weight.’ She took a visibly deep breath. ‘I was wrong.’

‘Sí.’ But he couldn’t bring himself to labour the point. She had good reasons for her misconceptions, reasons Leo himself had planted. He couldn’t blame her, just because for some reason he wanted her to look deeper. Wanted her to look beyond the playboy image and see what lay underneath—if anything lay beneath. He doubted it, but if there was anything there then surely Dr Anna Gray was the kind of woman to excavate it.

‘So.’ She hefted the tray up awkwardly. ‘Are you hungry?’

He was ravenous, he realised. Nothing like sheer physical labour to get a man’s appetite going. ‘Sí,’ he said again, taking the tray from her and heading over to the wrought-iron patio table each bungalow was furnished with, perfect for al fresco dining. This particular table was positioned to take advantage of the sea views and to get shelter from the midday sun and as Leo lowered himself onto the cool seat he realised how very hot and thirsty he was.