“I don’t doubt it.” She lifted her hands off his shoulders. Oddly, they were more tense than when she’d started.

“Mother’s jewels.” Her clipped words made his neck tighten. “I looked in her dresser, and they’re not there. They’ve always been there.”

“She died ten years ago.”

“I know, but Daddy never moved them before. Are they in the bank?”

“Why, are you thinking they’d look good on you?”

“Well, perhaps a piece or two. To remember Mother by.”

He cocked his head. “What if I want them for my wife?”

Right now he didn’t even want a wife. But one day he would marry and his wife should enjoy the legacy of a De Leon bride.

Isabela pressed a hand to her heart and inhaled deeply, eyes closed. “You know, Naldo, it hurts me right here, that everything our parents owned belongs to you, and nothing belongs to me. Do you think it’s fair?”

“No, I don’t think it’s fair. But I can see how it’s practical. If you divide everything up with each generation, sooner or later there’s nothing left.”

Isabela lifted her proud head and looked out the window, then snapped her gaze back to his. Her eyes glittered with sudden tears. “Don’t be selfish. You know I look just like Mother. I’d so love to have a piece or two, to remember how things were…before…”

Save it for La Scala.

“Good luck. Dad gave them all to Letty Marcus.” He said it coldly. If Isabela wanted opera-style drama, she could have it in spades.

“What?” Her tears vanished.

“He gave her the lot. I’m not sure if it was piece by piece, or all at once, but Anna has them now. I’m trying to buy them back.”

“Dieu.” She stared at him. “He must have lost his mind completely. Surely it’s not legal? They weren’t mentioned in the will. Why can’t you just take them back?”

Tried that. He drummed his fingertips on the table. “I don’t think that’s the honorable thing to do.”

“Honor be damned! We’re talking about the family heritage here.”

“Trust me. I know. I offered her cash, but she’s as stubborn as a De Leon.”

“She won’t sell?”

“She’ll sell. I’ll make sure of it.”

Already afternoon and the packing was not going well. Anna scraped her damp hair off her hot neck and wrapped it into a knot. She had no use for the old-fashioned bedside clock with its painted enamel design, since she had a programmable digital one, but could she just throw it away?

No way.

Yard sale?

Hardly a prime location.

So the clock still sat on the simple wood nightstand. The Lladro porcelain figures and hand-knitted doilies similarly balked at leaving the mantel in the sitting room. The scented collection of shell-shaped soaps in large beach shells refused to give up their multiyear residence on the shelf above the bathroom sink.

Her mother’s possessions had ganged up and decided to stay.

“Anna!”

Naldo’s deep voice, right under the open window of her mother’s bedroom, made her jump. What now?

It was bad enough that she couldn’t seem to get that forceful voice out of her head, now she had to deal with the face and body that went with it?

She leaned out the window. “You rang?”

“Hey.” A smile sneaked across his wide, sensual mouth.

How could he have the audacity to look pleased to see her? He must be up to something.

“Hey yourself.”

“Can I come in?”

“Can I prevent you?”

With a smile he disappeared from view, walking around to the front of the house.

She scanned the front of her T-shirt and shorts. Stain-free.

His heavy footsteps on the stairs were echoed in the heavy beat of her heart. She was not going to get swept off her feet by him this time.

He materialized in the doorway, all windblown black hair, flashing dark eyes and tanned muscles barely contained by a black polo shirt.

Great. She sucked in a breath. “How may I help you?”

“Just thought I’d see how the packing is going.” He scanned the room. A line appeared between his brows.

“As you can see, it’s not going so well.”

“Need a hand?”

His expression of good cheer didn’t fool her for an instant. “No thanks.”

He licked his lips. She ignored a tiny flare of heat in her belly. “I’ve been thinking.”

Uh-oh.

He picked up a china cat off the nightstand and turned it over, as if to read the maker’s mark on the bottom.

Probably said Wal-Mart.

“I should take the jewels to Breathley Brothers in St. George. They deal in fine historic gems, and they can do an up-to-date appraisal that incorporates provenance. I do have paperwork for many of the pieces, after all.”

“And there I was, thinking you came here to help me clean.” She put her hands on her hips. “I was just about to ask you to help me scrub the bathroom floor.”

His dimples appeared. “Celia would do a better job of that. I can send her over, if you like. I’m not sure I’d even fit in that bathroom.”

An image of Naldo’s big, bronzed body squeezed into the tiny shower stall assaulted her imagination.

He took a step forward and his rich male scent crept up on her. “I want our arrangement to be completely fair.”

Fair? Nothing about this was fair. For a start it wasn’t fair that Naldo always had such a discombobulating effect on her.

The image in her mind shifted into deeper focus. Thick droplets of warm water cascading over the hair-roughened skin of his powerful thighs.

She inhaled sharply. “Maybe I could take them.”

His brows lowered. “Perhaps we could go together.”

“When?”

“Right now.” He crossed his arms, in a gesture matching hers. His thick forearms tugged at the front of his black shirt, pulling it tighter over his well-developed pecs.

She crossed her arms higher to cover the tightening of her naughty nipples.

“I guess I’d better get changed.”

“I don’t know why. I think you look lovely like that.”

“I’m not sure your snooty jeweler will agree. They probably frown on cutoffs.”

“Let them frown all they want; they won’t turn away my business.” His lips lifted into a half smile.

So true. An old name and even older money guaranteed you the best of everything. Naldo had probably never heard the word no in his life.

“I’ll change anyway.”

“I’ll watch.” His eyes narrowed as his smile broadened.

“You will not!” Her protest accompanied a curl of heat in her belly. The thought of those dangerous dark eyes on her, appraising, admiring…

“Wait downstairs.”

Naldo pouted slightly before turning for the stairs. He ducked, stooping his broad shoulders as he went down the tiny staircase.

Her nipples stung as she slid her T-shirt over them, and her panties were already damp. Just being in the room with Naldo made her pant like a preteen at a rock concert.

How was she supposed to stand the half-hour drive to St. George cooped up in his tiny car with him?

She needed a chastity belt.

And the next best thing was a dress from her mother’s closet. Surely she wouldn’t think lusty thoughts if she was wearing clothes that belonged to her mom. She flipped past a pretty floral dress and a low-backed white one, then lifted a splashy polka-dot number from its hanger.

Perfect. It was the kind of thing that only her mom could pull off. Naldo would certainly be too weirded out to give her any smoldering looks in this.

Six

Naldo frowned as Anna emerged through the front door, jewel box in hand, to where he paced on the lawn. “You’re wearing that?”

“You don’t like it?” She did a twirl, which caused the polka-dotted skirt to flare out around her.

“It’s okay, it’s just that you look like…”

Your mother.

The unspoken words crackled in the air.

Her mother had loved patterns, bright colors, girly details. A stark contrast to Anna’s own preference for pastels and simple sheath dresses. The fitted forties-style dress was a size too big, but with the belt cinched in it looked…festive.

The look of distress on Naldo’s face gave her a warm glow of satisfaction.

“Do that again,” he said, with an unreadable expression.

“What?”

“Twirl.”

She twirled, hoping to see consternation furrow his majestic brow again.

She was annoyed to confront a smug look of satisfaction.

“Suits you.” He strode to his Alfa Romeo and tugged open the passenger-side door. “You should show off your shape more often.”

Anna bristled with irritation as she lowered herself into the seat and strapped herself in, nipples thrumming inside the fitted bodice of her mother’s dress.

After he returned from his house with the papers, Naldo’s eyes fell to the wooden box cradled in her lap. “Why don’t you put one of the pieces on? That dress could use some earrings.”

“No thanks. I don’t want to get attached.” She shot him a loaded glance.

His lips quirked into a smile. “Understandable.”

During the drive they chatted, mostly about the estate and Naldo’s plans to improve and upgrade using the latest technology and scientific research. Anna answered his questions about her work with genuine enthusiasm-she’d been damn good at it, after all-and managed to deflect his curiosity about her future plans with blurry answers and more questions for him.

It was cute how he could talk about his beloved estate and its people and places for hours. His love for them was obviously deep, ingrained and heartfelt. What would it be like to have a man care about you with that kind of intensity?

She tore her eyes from his proud profile. She knew better than to entertain any thoughts about Naldo loving her. That was the road to heartbreak.

Naldo parked in front of an elegant Queen Anne house in a leafy part of St. George. The jeweler was so low-profile that they didn’t even use a sign. Naldo had called ahead on his cell, and they were greeted at the door by a young man in a white linen suit, who was on a first-name basis with Naldo.