The Acostas Box Set: The Shameless Life of Ruiz Acosta / The Argentinian's Solace / A Taste of the Untamed / The Man From her Wayward Past / Taming the Last Acosta / Christmas Nights with the Polo Pla

‘Maybe, Señor Acosta,’ she agreed. To have Ruiz teasing her again in that warm, husky voice was alarming and yet strangely reassuring too. It was as though nothing had changed between them, as though they were still close, and had always been close, and only she had imagined the yawning gulf growing between them.

‘Come on,’ he said, taking hold of her arm.

‘Where are you taking me?’

‘Does it matter?’

Ruiz’s gaze was dark and disturbing, and she had to remind herself that this was a research trip. ‘Not one bit,’ she said. ‘Your driver told me you and your brothers own some of the top ponies in the world …’ Not the best conversational opening gambit she had ever come up with, but she had to try something to distract her wandering and highly erotic thoughts.

‘Have you ever wondered why there isn’t a polo world series?’ Ruiz demanded, staring down at her.

She looked into the dark, compelling gaze. ‘I’m sure you’re going to tell me.’

‘Argentina would clean up every time. We have the best ponies in the world. And the best players.’

‘The most modest too,’ Holly observed dryly.

‘You’re right,’ Ruiz agreed, his eyes dancing with shared laughter. ‘We’re just about perfect.’

She hadn’t imagined it would be so easy to relax with him. But she mustn’t read too much into it, Holly warned herself. Tensions had never existed between them for long and she was Ruiz’s guest in Argentina.

‘I notice you’re not taking notes?’ Ruiz observed, adopting an expression that made her smile even more.

‘What notes?’ she said, frowning. And then she laughed again, knowing her reputation for work.

‘I was led to understand that the only reason you agreed to accept my invitation to come to Argentina was because your boss at ROCK! told you it would be a good idea to write a polo feature for the magazine.’

‘Correct,’ she said. That was the only reason.

‘And there was no other reason?’ Ruiz probed in his deep, husky voice.

‘Should there be?’ If she couldn’t fool herself, what hope was there of fooling Ruiz?

‘You tell me,’ he said.

* * *

‘This is my family home,’ Ruiz told her as they approached a grand old house.

The building had an air of permanence and was much loved, Holly decided, noticing it was immaculately maintained. When they went through the impressive entrance she found herself in a large hall crammed with people. ‘Too many people for proper introductions,’ Ruiz determined, leading her towards an impressive sweeping staircase. ‘You should have some privacy now so you can rest up and take a bath before you meet everyone. You might even like a sleep to recover from the journey?’

‘I’ll be fine. I’m far too excited,’ Holly admitted, which drew a sharp glance from Ruiz. ‘If you can just give me half an hour or so to take a shower and change my clothes …?’

‘But no face masks,’ he said dryly.

‘Promise,’ she said, trying hard to curb a smile.

‘I need to freshen up too,’ Ruiz pointed out, breaking what had turned into a long moment of mutual inspection and assessment. ‘Then I’m going to take a tour of the stables to check on the ponies.’

‘Can I come with you?’

‘If you promise not to bring your phone or your notepad.’

‘I haven’t even switched it on yet.’ And only now remembered her oversight.

‘Then do so,’ Ruiz prompted. ‘You should let people know you’re safe. Though your working hours at the estancia will be between one and four in the afternoon while I’m taking a siesta.’

She laughed. ‘So I work while you rest?’

‘Sounds good to me,’ Ruiz observed with another heart-stopping flash of humour.

‘And what am I supposed to do for the rest of the time?’

‘Live a little?’ Ruiz suggested.

I will, she thought as he turned to go.

She had so much research material already and she’d only been here five minutes, Holly reflected as she leaned back against the heavy wooden door in her bedroom. Decorated in shades of palest coral and cream the room Ruiz had chosen for her was light and sunny, and beautifully feminine in a way Holly had never had the luxury of enjoying before. There was lace on the bed and silver on the dressing table, with a clutch of satin cushions on the elegant chaise longue positioned to take in the view over the ponies in the paddocks beyond the formal gardens.

The scent of beeswax tickled her senses as she waited for the data to upload on her phone. It was then that she noticed the family photographs arranged on the antique chest of drawers. There was a shot of the brothers as teenagers with their much younger sister, all of them smiling and instantly recognisable—dangerously handsome even then. She might only have been here five minutes, Holly reflected as her heartbeat increased, but it was long enough to know she would write about sexy polo players in general, because some things were better kept private. She couldn’t bear the thought of everyone laughing at her if she admitted how hopelessly in love she was with one polo player in particular.

Having made the necessary calls, she took a shower in the old fashioned, but immaculate and beautifully maintained bathroom, before sorting out her clothes on top of the high, intricately carved four-poster bed with its dressing of crisp white linen and lace. When she was ready she went to find Ruiz and her heart juddered when she bumped into him on the landing. Like her, he was just going downstairs. ‘Do you have everything you need?’ he asked.

She looked at him and thought not. ‘My room is lovely. Thank you.’ And then the question uppermost in her mind had to be asked. ‘Why did you invite me here, Ruiz?’ It was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

The dark eyes gave nothing away. ‘Your editor’s pleased you’re here, isn’t he?’

‘Yes, of course he is.’ But that didn’t answer her question and Holly’s shoulders slumped as she watched Ruiz walk ahead of her down the stairs. Her heart yearned for him, but her head said, Don’t set yourself up for another disaster.

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#ulink_41ea0d28-6b00-5a67-bb86-ed324a31b843)

Another column I only hope makes more sense to you, the reader, than it does to me right now. My head is full of one man: the playboy. He’s so hot and sexy with a torso that would eclipse the centre-fold on any magazine you care to mention. To see him control a horse, effortlessly and completely, is the biggest turn-on of all. The polo match was spectacular. He was spectacular—

Am I getting a little selfish here? If I am, this is for you: the quotient of thighs like smooth, muscular tree trunks, and forearms like hairy steel bars was totally off the scale—

But the playboy is the only man I’m interested in. To seem him in full battle mode cracking the ball down the field at a gallop was so thrilling I would have fallen in love with him on the spot if I weren’t in love with him already.

Yes. You can safely say I am a lost cause. I don’t seem to have any sense of reality when it comes to men. I can’t find a safe man with carpet slippers and a newspaper. I can’t even find a slightly risky man with a set of golf clubs and a year’s subscription to the local squash club. All I can find is a Playboy with a capital P and a stonking great mallet.

RUIZ was in the kitchen drinking coffee, with a housekeeper bustling at the stove. He put his cup down when Holly came into the room and got up immediately. ‘I want you to see something,’ he said, leading her back towards the door she had just entered.

His touch on her arm was so familiar … so achingly familiar. She liked it. A great deal too much.

Ruiz took her across the baronial hall with its burnished wooded floor and muted, jewel-coloured hangings to another passageway leading off the grand entrance hall. Opening the door onto a room with a very different personality, he followed her in. Leaning back against the door, he said, ‘Well? What do you think?’

She was finding it hard to concentrate right now.

‘Take a look around,’ he said. ‘I think you’ll find everything you need here …’