The Spanish Tycoon's Takeover

‘I’m planning to make changes here.’

‘Of course you are. It’s not like the place doesn’t need it.’

‘I have no intention of fighting you every step of the way or pandering to your sentimentality. You either do the job I’ve employed you to do or you hand your resignation in now.’

Her chin shot up, but it wasn’t the sudden frost in her eyes that Xavier noticed so much as the luscious curve of her bottom lip. He gazed at it, and the longer he stared the harder and sharper the hunger that sliced through him. If he kissed her, would that ice melt in the heat?

Her sharp, ‘Yes, sir!’ hauled him back.

The flush on her cheeks and the way she avoided eye contact told him he’d been staring...and that it had made her uncomfortable.

He didn’t want Wynne comfortable—he wanted her poised to carry out his every demand with flattering speed. He suspected if he gave the woman an inch she’d take a mile. But this was business, and he didn’t want her feeling uncomfortable on a personal level.

‘Do you have any other questions about how we run breakfast?’

‘I’d like to create a breakfast room, where guests can help themselves to a buffet breakfast.’

‘That would be lovely.’ Her eyes said otherwise. ‘But we don’t have the equipment or the staff.’

‘Yet.’

That perked her up.

He let her savour it. By the end of the day, when she’d had a taste of the wholesale changes he meant to make, he fully expected her unqualified resignation.

‘The motel does not serve lunch or dinner?’

‘No.’

Good. That meant he would have her full attention for the rest of the day. He started to rise.

‘Well...’ She grimaced. ‘Not as a general rule.’

He sat again. ‘Explain.’

‘We get a lot of repeat business at Aggie’s Retreat.’

‘Yes?’

‘That means we get to know our guests as...as individuals.’

She uttered that sentence as if it explained everything.

He stared at her. ‘And?’

‘So, for example, I know that Sandra Clark from up Cairns way would walk across hot coals for a halfway decent salmon cake, and that the favourite dish of Godfrey Trent from Sydney is crumbed cutlets.’

He gaped at her. ‘You cook their favourite meals?’

‘I charge through the nose for it.’

‘How much?’

She told him and he shook his head. ‘That’s nothing compared to the majority of hotel restaurant rates.’

‘But it’s far more expensive than the Thai restaurant down the road or the tavern on the corner. I make a seventy per cent profit and the motel gets its guests’ undying gratitude and loyalty. That sounds like a win-win, if you ask me.’

It made sound financial sense—except this wasn’t the way the Ramos Corporation ran its hotels! ‘What are you running here—a guesthouse? Because it certainly isn’t a hotel.’

She suddenly smiled—one of those smiles. ‘That’s the perfect description. We’re a home away from home. It’s why our guests keep coming back.’ Her smile widened. ‘That and the fact that our rooms are so clean.’

‘Which is just as well, as your rooms don’t have anything else to recommend them.’

‘Ouch. That’s a little harsh. She’s getting a little tired around the edges, I’ll admit, but Aggie’s Retreat still has charm.’

‘She’s shabby. And the charm is wearing thin.’ He stabbed a finger to the table. ‘I want a tour of the entire building. Now.’

‘Rooms Three, Eight and Twelve won’t be vacated until after ten, but the rest of the motel is at your disposal.’

He did his best to run her ragged for the next two hours, but she kept perfect pace with him. In any other circumstances he’d have been impressed, but not here. In fact the more time he spent in her company the more he realised she would have to go.

He couldn’t fire her—he wouldn’t stoop to that—but he’d be more than happy to accept her resignation once she handed it in. And he knew exactly how to achieve that.

He turned to her, cutting her off in mid-sentence as she told him some unpalatable truth or other about the building’s ancient plumbing system. ‘Wynne, I think it is time you learned the real reason I have bought Aggie’s Retreat.’

‘Excellent!’ She rubbed her hands together. ‘I’ve been wondering how long it would take you to put me out of my misery.’

His lips tightened. ‘You do not look as if you are in any state of misery.’ It looked as if misery were completely alien to this woman’s existence. Unlike Lorenzo’s. And unlike Xavier’s own.

He pushed that last thought aside. He had no intention of descending into self-pity. Camilla might have proved as false as any woman could, but he had Luis. He would never regret his son. He’d come here to lay the ghosts of the past to rest—his grandfather’s past and perhaps his own too. He would create a hotel that would do his grandfather proud. Maybe then both of them would have earned some peace.

Wynne tossed her head, and all her glorious hair bounced about her shoulders. Her smile only grew wider.

Dios, that smile!

‘Allay my curiosity then.’

For no reason at all, his heart started to pound.

Those clear green eyes surveyed him, alive with curiosity and energy. ‘After all, Aggie’s Retreat isn’t the kind of property the Ramos chain generally shows interest in.’

‘That’s because my interest in this establishment is personal.’

Her eyebrows lifted. ‘Personal?’

She rubbed her hands together again, and for a moment all he could imagine was the feel of those hands on his bare flesh. Heat flooded him with a speed that had him sucking in a breath. He couldn’t recall the last time thoughts of a woman, desire for a woman, had interfered with his work.

‘Ooh, it sounds like there’s a story here! I’m on the edge of my seat.’