She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed this place. She marveled at the endless rows of lush trees burgeoning under the clear bright blue sky, as the scent of ripe oranges thickened the air. The estate was known as Paradiso, and the name fit. A little piece of heaven.

Or a big piece of it, depending on your perspective.

And now a very, very tiny piece of it was hers.

“Anna!” She jumped as Naldo strode through the French doors. “I thought I’d never be rid of them.”

He’d removed his tie and unbuttoned the neck of his white shirt, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of bronzed skin at his throat. He picked up his tall mojito glass from the table. For one second she was agonizingly aware of the long, powerful fingers that had held hers with such tender yet irresistible force. He lifted the glass, threw his head back and drank.

“God, what a day.” He slammed the half-empty glass down on the table. He shrugged his expensive jacket off and threw it casually over a wicker chair. “Let me look at you.”

She stood fixed to the spot as he-without any shame-let his eyes rove over her from head to toe, appearing to drink her in like a tall, cool mojito.

The warm approval in his gaze sparked a rush of sensation that stung her fingertips and nipples. She covered her confusion in a sip of her drink.

“Don’t be shy. I’m just in shock, that’s all. I can’t believe that you’re the tough cookie with the cropped hair who used to challenge me to arm-wrestling matches.” Amusement twinkled in his eyes.

A rush of memories flooded her veins with that strange mix of pain and pleasure. “You used to let me win.”

“I never let you win. You used to kick my ass regularly, until I grew bigger.”

Until your mother died, and you didn’t come home anymore.

She’d looked forward to his boarding school vacations with every cell in her body. He’d come home bursting with energy, thrilled to be back and up for anything. But after his mother’s death he always had somewhere else to go-skiing in Aspen, polo in Argentina, a tour of Italy. She hadn’t really seen him again after that. She was gone by the time he graduated from college and moved back here.

She shook off the thought of how suddenly he’d disappeared from her life. “I did always beat you at tennis, didn’t I?” She remembered with a surge of pleasure how he could never take a set away from her.

“You were a menace on the courts. Do you still play?” His dark eyes sparkled.

“No.” She sipped her drink quickly, to cover a rush of sadness. “I haven’t had much time for that kind of thing since I left here.”

“You know what they say about all work and no play. I can’t get over how thin you are. What happened to all those tough muscles you were so proud of?”

They went the same way as the rest of my strength. Into a bad marriage and a worse business partnership.

She shrugged and forced a smile. “Life, you know.”

“Your mother told me you got divorced. I’m sorry.” The flash of pity in his eyes stuck her like a knife.

There had been no way to hide the failure of her marriage from the one person she trusted most in the world. At least her mom had never learned of the accompanying financial ruin.

“One of those things.” She took another sip of her bittersweet drink. The liquor warmed her blood and softened the tension creeping through her. “Did you ever marry?”

“I think you know the answer to that question.”

Strange relief crept through her. “No? You’ll have to one day. The future of the De Leon dynasty depends on it.”

“True. A weighty burden.”

“Will you continue the tradition of importing a famously beautiful duke’s daughter from Spain?” She still remembered how stunning his mother was, even in her fifties. Intimidating as hell, but undeniably gorgeous.

He sipped his refilled drink and she read something odd in his gaze. The hint of a challenge? “Perhaps I will. There’s a lot to be said for tradition.”

“Your father never remarried. Was he lonely?”

“I was with him.” His brusque reply startled her.

“You were away at boarding school, then at college, for most of five years after your mom died.”

His nostrils flared briefly. “I smell the snapper. Let’s go inside.”

He swept through the door, leaving a trail of unease in his wake.

What had she said?

An intimate table for two was set in the bright, cheery breakfast room. She’d always liked this spot better than the imposing main dining room, and right now it looked cozy and inviting. White wine glittered in crystal glasses and candlelight danced over shimmering silver cutlery and hand-painted porcelain. A young man served the steaming fish.

“Are these plates Chinese?”

“Yes, eighteenth century. My ancestor Francisco Alvaro De Leon brought them back from his travels in the Orient.”

Even the plates around here had a pedigree dating back two hundred years. Not her. She’d never even met her own father.

She stuck her fork into the fish. Succulent juices flowed from the perfectly cooked flesh.

“You’re in real estate?” He asked the question with warm curiosity. His pique of a few moments ago had vanished.

She took a deep breath. “My husband and I started a company buying and leasing commercial properties.”

“Intriguing. That’s a tough business. Your mother told me you did well for yourself.”

“Yes.” For a while. She couldn’t bring herself to tell her mom what had really happened. “When we divorced we dissolved the company, though. I haven’t decided what to do next.”

The delicate flavor of the fish, lightly crusted with tangy spices, exploded over her tongue. “Your new cook is good.” She felt like a traitor as she swallowed the delicious food and forked another bite.

Naldo paused in the act of raising his wineglass to his mouth and held her gaze as the candle flame danced in his penetrating eyes. “Your mother will be missed by all of us.”

Anna swallowed. “I’ve been gone so long. So busy, and all the way up in Boston. I haven’t been back as often as I’d-”

“She understood. Believe me, your success made her happier than you can know. She was so proud of you, always showing your letters to everyone and talking about your latest accomplishments.”

Guilt speared into her. Still, she was glad her mom died believing her successful and solvent.

Naldo’s smile revealed white teeth, perfectly even except for one slightly crooked incisor. A tiny imperfection that added distinctive charm. Why did he have to be so painfully handsome?

“You must be anxious to get back to Boston. I don’t imagine a big, dusty farm holds much appeal now that you don’t have any relations here.” He punctuated his statement with a mouthful of fish.

“I hardly think of the De Leon estate as a big dusty farm.”

“All right. A big sandy farm.” Dark humor twinkled in his eyes. “Where nothing ever changes. Just blossoms blooming and oranges ripening. I guess that’s not too exciting for a successful Boston businesswoman.”

“I guess not.” Unease roamed through her as she broke off a flake of fish with the tines of her fork.

The sensation of Naldo’s hard gaze made her look up. He stared at her, eyes slightly narrowed, candlelight shimmering over the harsh planes of his handsome face.

Something tightened in her gut. What was he up to?

“Two hundred thousand dollars.” His authoritative voice spoke the words like a command.

“What?”

“My price for the cottage.”

“It can’t be worth that much,” she blurted before she came to her senses. Two hundred thousand dollars? Somewhere inside her a sun started to rise. This was it, exactly what she needed to start over.

“I’ll help you finish packing first thing tomorrow, and you can be on your way back to Boston by lunchtime.”

She frowned as panic sneaked over her. By lunchtime she’d be gone-forever?

“I can have a cashier’s check ready for you first thing tomorrow.”

“I…I…”

“In fact, let me call my banker now. Why wait? I’m sure you’re anxious to get back to your life and friends.” Naldo balled up his linen napkin and rose to his feet.

“But wait-”

“I’ll call my lawyer and have him draw up the paperwork.”

He was already halfway across the room, cell phone pulled from his pocket, their elegant dinner forgotten in his haste to…

Get rid of her.

Irritation shimmered through her. It was so easy for him. He wanted the cottage back. She was a problem, and what did a rich man do with his problems? Throw money at them and make them go away.

Even without an in-depth knowledge of local real estate, she was experienced enough to know that a tiny, unrenovated workman’s cottage, landlocked in a big estate, on one grass-covered acre was worth…what? One hundred thousand? If that. And that would be the price of the land. The 1920s cottage, with its pokey rooms and vintage fixtures would be a tear-down to all but the most hardened history buffs.

Why was he willing to pay so much to get rid of her? And why so fast?

Alarm bells jangled her nerves.

“Why did your father leave my mother that cottage?” Her voice sounded calmer than she felt.

Naldo paused in the act of dialing. “She worked here for fifteen years. She was a loyal and dedicated employee. Giving bequests to valued staff is a family tradition.”

“But every other longtime member of staff got a cash gift.”

Naldo held her gaze for a moment, then looked away and cleared his throat.

“My father knew the estate was very dear to her, and he wanted to make sure she always had a home here.”

“I’m sure most of the staff feel the same way. The estate is famous as a place where people live out their whole lives, even when they’re too old to work. That’s one of the many traditions that make it such a special-”