Jane Porter - Latin Lovers Untamed

“But we’ll never pay you back.”

“No, you won’t, but the farm will. We’ll restructure the contract between Galván Enterprises and Collingsworth Farm.”

So it had happened. The farm was no longer a private family business. Dante was in charge. Daisy swallowed the lump in her throat. “So what will I be doing?” she whispered.

“Taking a crash course in farm management.”

“Where?”

“Argentina.”

Daisy did a double-take. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I couldn’t be more serious.”

He was serious. Nearly forty-eight hours later she was boarding his jet at dawn at Lexington’s executive airport. But she was still fighting him every inch of the way. “I don’t see the point in dragging me to Argentina to work your ranch when I have a farm of my own,” she said, settling into her leather seat.

“Management isn’t an innate skill, it’s an acquired knowledge, something that must be learned.”

“Yes, but I could learn at home. Under Clemente.”

“Felipe Gutierrez, my estancia manager, trained Clemente. He’ll train you. He is the best.” Dante took out a newspaper and turned his attention to the text.

Obviously, in his mind, the discussion was over.

Daisy wanted to argue but knew she’d already lost the battle. She was on the plane, wasn’t she?

They flew from Kentucky to Miami where they were scheduled to refuel before making the long hop to Buenos Aires.

Unfortunately, flying into Miami proved disastrous. Within an hour after arriving, hurricane warnings forced Miami’s air traffic control to temporarily shut down the runways.

Dante was immediately on his cell phone, pacing the executive terminal and making a stream of calls. He spoke in Spanish, a language Daisy had studied in high school for two years, which meant she could order a meal but not much else. Yet she didn’t need to speak his language to know he was furious, and with each successive phone call his voice grew sharper and his expression darker. Something was definitely wrong.

As he paced, Daisy overheard him say a woman’s name not just once or twice, but repeatedly. Then he snapped his phone closed. The phone rang again, he answered even more curtly, and again he ended the call abruptly.

She didn’t know what the issue was, but somehow she knew he’d win in the end. He picked his battles carefully, focused on the outcome and persevered.

Like with Carter at the Lindleys’. And then with her and the farm contract. When she’d met him yesterday at Pembroke, Pembroke and Brown, he knew exactly what he wanted and he got it. He was nothing if not shrewd.

With the new contract, he’d positioned himself as the controlling investor in Collingsworth Farm, owning a majority interest. He’d receive eighty percent of the future returns and would have the final say in all issues relating to farm operations, including replacing Daisy as farm manager in six months’ time if he didn’t feel proper progress was being made.

He hadn’t resorted to blackmail, she thought ruefully, watching him pocket his cell phone, but he’d come awfully close.

Dante turned and faced her. But he wasn’t looking at her. At least, he wasn’t seeing her. He was miles away, lost in thought. She’d never seen him so troubled and she resisted feeling a twinge of sympathy. If he hadn’t played hardball with her over the farm contract, she might have more empathy, but he was tough. He deserved what he got.

Suddenly he looked at her and saw her watching him. The heavy crease between his brows eased, and his jaw relaxed into a reluctant smile.

Her heart did a funny little flip. Why it did, she didn’t know, but even her pulse quickened and her lips curved into a reluctant smile.

He walked toward her, stopped in front of her chair. “I haven’t been good company,” he said rather apologetically.

She saw the fatigue in his expression, creases fanning from his eyes. He really did look tired. “Problems at home?” she guessed.

“Always.” He laughed and shook his head. “My family is like a soap opera. Nothing but crisis and melodrama.”

He made her smile. “Sounds interesting.”

“If unstable.” His grin stretched, a self-deprecating grin that made him look incredibly charming and incredibly dangerous. “But I’ve never minded challenges.”

Somehow she sensed he wasn’t just referring to his family.

Once the hurricane warnings were lifted they were allowed to take off. Six hours after takeoff the Gulfstream jet made its final descent, dropping through a brilliant glaze of late afternoon sun and startling blue sky. Daisy leaned toward the window, gazing out the plane window at the clear horizon and the endless green and gold land. The ground loomed closer, and the plane’s wings dipped then righted.

The jet touched down on the runway in a series of little hops, gradually reducing speed until it rolled to a complete stop.

“Someone from the estancia will be picking us up,” Dante said, opening the Gulfstream’s door and jumping out. “The pilot radioed ahead. Shouldn’t be long now.”

Daisy recoiled at the blanket of heat as she stepped off the plane. Unlike the warm humid American South, the climate was hot and dry and the high temperature seemed to swallow her whole.

It looked as though they’d landed in the middle of nowhere. The airstrip cut straight through what appeared to be one endless pasture. She saw nothing for miles but grass. Just a distant line of scrubby trees marked the horizon. She shaded her eyes, squinting against the sun. “Where are we again?”

“About five miles from the house.”

“The land is endless.”

“This is the pampas.” He rolled up his shirtsleeves, revealing sinewy tendons and tanned forearms, and quickly unloaded the luggage from the tail of the plane.

The pilot and plane had been gone for over an hour, and despite Dante’s assurances, no one had arrived for them. Daisy took a seat on her battered suitcase, propped her boots on another and made herself comfortable.

“I’m sorry about this.” Dante’s tone was clipped, his embarrassment tangible. “Someone should have been here by now, which leads me to believe that there’s been a bit of a problem.”

Daisy’s wide, curious gaze induced him to explain. “Anabella,” he said. “My sister. I have three sisters, but Anabella is the pill. My constant headache. She is more trouble than all the Galváns put together.”

Yet despite his cynical words, Daisy heard the tenderness in his voice. He loved his sister. Very much. “Perhaps it’s not really Anabella creating the problem.”

“It’s because I know her and love her I can safely say this delay is Anabella’s fault. This has never happened before. Not in ten years of flying in and out of the ranch.”

“Can you call someone?”

“I don’t get cellular coverage here. No towers in the area yet. I intend to bring them in, though. In fact, that’s what I’m working on now.”

Daisy tossed a small pebble. “We can always walk.”

“Not an option. Can’t leave the luggage and too much to carry.”

“But what if no one comes?”

“Someone will come. I’m expected.”

Daisy struggled not to smile. “Yes, obviously.”

He shot her a quick look, black eyebrows rising. “What was that you said, muneca? ”

He was looking at her, really looking at her, and she felt his size, his strength and his focus. His attention was as thrilling as it was unnerving. She still had no idea how to handle his blatant virility.

Suddenly whatever they were talking about was less interesting, less important than what was happening between them. Daisy shifted on the suitcase, put her feet down, bracing her. “I, uh …”