Caroline Anderson - Housekeeper at His Command - The Spaniard's Virgin Housekeeper / His Pregnant Housekeeper / The Maid and the Millionaire

And then, because the Spaniard’s frown had deepened she added, less confrontationally, ‘Look, don’t think I’m not grateful for your offer of a new dress. I am. But I’m not bothered. I can live without a fancy dress, but this little thing won’t last long unless someone cares for it. Pop in and apologise to Madame Whatever. Then we can take this poor little scrap back to the hotel.’

She actually meant it.

Cayo’s spiralling perplexity deepened his frown still further. Had she been like this—five foot nothing of fierce protectiveness—when she’d stumbled across his uncle and the old man had collapsed? In that case she’d accepted a job at wages that were less than rock bottom in order to care for an old man she’d believed to be neglected and near destitute, caring for him when she’d thought that no one else did.

In this case she wasn’t ‘bothered’ about acquiring a whole new wardrobe of designer gear. The immediate care of a scruffy mutt was of more importance.

Nothing seemed as clear-cut as it formerly had. Had he been wrong about her? Had his famous sound judgement let him down badly?

Moving forward, he set one final test. ‘Does it have a collar or name tag?’ Receiving a decisive and negative shake of her tousled blond head, he opined, ‘Then I’m afraid it’s been abandoned. I’ll have my driver take it to a vet while we keep our appointment.’

As if the puppy had understood every word, it gave a piteous whimper and began licking Izzy’s face. Her hands tightened protectively around the scrawny body. She could feel its little heart beating frantically. ‘No!’ She could just imagine a huge white-coated man with a lethal injection bending over the poor little thing. ‘I can look after it!’

‘Bueno!’ Cayo’s mouth firmed decisively. ‘Wait in the car—and take that flea-ridden disaster with you.’

The last thing he needed in his life was a mangy puppy that would grow up into a mangy adult mongrel, but he knew when he was beaten and was practical enough to give way with good grace. Besides, for the first time in his adult life he felt as if he was on shaky ground, unsure of himself. He deplored the feeling.

Reaching into an inner pocket for his cellphone, he made three short, tersely specific calls with the utter confidence of a man who was used to getting what he wanted, to having others jump when he told them to. Then he strode towards the waiting car, his eyes glinting narrowly as he sought an answer to the question of whether he’d been catastrophically wrong about Izzy Makepeace.

He was never wrong!

And yet …

Izzy’s head was spinning and she couldn’t stop grinning. She and the puppy had been treated like royalty ever since they’d arrived back at the hotel.

The manager had been waiting for them. Obsequious and deferential, he had accompanied them up to her suite, barking out rapidfire orders to two of his staff, who had filled a plastic bath with warm water. To demonstrate how important he was, the manager had minutely inspected the bottle of baby shampoo before handing it to her.

Aware of all eyes on her, of Cayo sardonically distant in the background, Izzy had knelt and lowered the puppy into the water. Benji, as she’d already decided to name him, had taken immediate exception to the unfamiliar experience and scrabbled frantically to escape the unwanted dunking, soaking her and the bathroom floor, and venting cross baby yelps as she’d lathered and rinsed him, only subsiding when she had finally lifted him out and wrapped him in the big fluffy towel immediately handed to her.

Leaving his staff to empty and remove the bath, the manager had ushered her through to the opulent sitting room, where a low table had already been laid with a bone china plate of thinly sliced chicken breast meat and a silver bowl of water.

Now, oblivious to the cleaners, who had arrived to put the bathroom back to its former pristine state, Izzy watched the puppy wolf down the chicken with enormous satisfaction, too pleased with the frankly amazing and gratifying outcome of what she had believed would be a huge problem to worry as a vet and his assistant arrived, bowed down with packages.

As Spanish seemed the order of the day, Izzy left the vet and his helper to their examination, contenting herself with exploring the packages, bulky and small. Cayo had arranged for the delivery of everything to make a small puppy happy and comfortable. There was a comfy padded dog bed, a soft blanket, a pack of puppy kibbles, feeding bowls and a minute collar and lead of the softest leather imaginable.

When the vet had finally made his departure Cayo lobbed a look—part exasperated, part amused—at Izzy, as she knelt over the dog bed, where the animal had finally settled.

Smiling, Izzy rose from her knees, turned and faced him, her hands on her curvy hips. ‘You don’t fool me, Cayo Garcia! You’re nothing like as hard-hearted as you try to appear!’

Her huge eyes were glowing. They looked like priceless sapphires. The front of her T-shirt was soaked, moulding the thin fabric to every lethally voluptuous curve of her breasts.

His breath felt hot in his lungs. Whether or not she had mercenary intentions, whether she was a scheming, greedy gold-digger or a soft-hearted innocent in need of protection from her own headstrong, thoughtless altruism he had yet to discover. Only one thing was clear: she was a walking man-trap!

She was moving towards him, her luscious hips a swaying temptation, her smile wide and dazzling enough to make a man believe the sun had come out at darkest midnight. A small hand stretched out to him.

‘He’s really cute when he’s asleep. Come and look. His name’s Benji—’

‘I’ll pass.’

His voice sounded rusty. Something gave a violent wrench deep inside him. His face felt hot. Time to get out of here. Right now! He tore his eyes away from the temperature-raising outline of her nipples, the way the wet fabric clung.

‘I suggest you get changed. I’ll have dinner brought to you.’ And he exited through the door that connected to his suite before he could give in to the shaft of driving sexual need that was invading his entire system.

IT FELT exactly like a blow between the eyes. Izzy blinked back the sudden sting of tears. For a few minutes she’d been feeling relaxed, even hopeful that her volatile relationship with Cayo could be somehow redefined, that there was at least an outside chance of an easy friendship between them—and who knew where that might lead? A girl could dream, couldn’t she?

She’d almost—just fleetingly, of course, in a moment of insanity—believed herself to be falling in love with him!

How feeble could a girl get?

Disconsolately she plodded to the bathroom, stripped off her sodden clothes and had a quick shower. She took ages towelling herself dry, brooding over her lack of judgement.

The things he’d done to make sure the stray puppy received all necessary care had made her think that he’d transmogrified from the kind of guy who would walk past a starving small animal without batting an eyelash into someone who cared enough to summon vets, hotel managers and plates of chicken. A man with a kind heart.

How silly!

He’d only done it because he’d seen she’d been adamant about rescuing the puppy, and he hadn’t wanted his precious hotel infected with fleas or to have to put up with her loudly wailing recriminations if the ‘flea-ridden disaster’, as he’d unflatteringly named poor Benji, had died!

And there she’d been, making a first unselfconscious friendly gesture towards him, wanting to share her pleasure with him, making a fool of herself, almost falling in love with him! And what had he done?