The Saint's Devilish Deal Read Online Free

again and smiled.
    Esme slammed the lid of her computer shut on those thoughts. She could fix everything by saving the villa. Forget about the past with Santiago. Fix the villa, fix Constance. Show she was good enough for this job.
    She would do what it took to bring this place back to the way it used to be, starting with avoiding any of his toe-curling kisses. Esme left a short message on Aunt Con’s voicemail, pacing the room, wondering how she was supposed to run an inn for an absentee owner who hadn’t left so much as a To Do list.
    She wasn’t angry at Constance’s silence. Annoyed, maybe. Frustrated, definitely. Not angry. She couldn’t be angry with Constance. Esme wanted to crawl under the covers in her childhood room and hide from the uncertainty that Constance’s disappearance put into her life.
    Only Santiago was currently occupying said childhood room and the two rooms adjoining it. Esme knew winding up in his bed would definitely not be on Constance’s list of things to do while running the villa. He shouldn’t be on Esme’s To Do list, either.
    She crossed from the desk under the eaves to the French doors leading to a rooftop terrace. The best view for miles around, at least to Esme. Focused on the Bay of Banderas, Esme took five slow breaths, breathing in the comfort of the salty sea air for two counts before exhaling the claustrophobia of the closed off room for two counts. It’s a vacation villa, E, not rocket science. She felt the weight of Constance’s absence leave her shoulders for the first time since her plane touched down.
    She pushed the niggling feelings of doubt from her mind. No, Constance hadn’t left her instructions. No, it wouldn’t be easy to watch Santiago run her beloved villa for the next three months. Yes, she could beat him at whatever game he was playing.
    Mind made up, Esme grabbed a notebook and settled into a chaise lounge on the terrace to make notes. Chewing on the pen tip as she thought over her options, Esme gazed at the clear, blue water. A windsurfer on the bay canted left and splashed down into the calm water. She wouldn’t fall, not this time.
     

Chapter Two
     
    The next morning Santiago slammed down the phone at the front desk and stalked into the office. Two more cancellations. He wasn’t sure which was more debilitating: his failure at a job which should be second nature or the thought Esme might do a better job once she was in charge. He needed to get control of the situation long before then, so it was time to up the ante.
    He ran his fingers over the massive oak desk Constance rescued from an old mission, restoring it on the lawn the summer he turned ten. It would stay. The piece added texture to the open floor plan. Esme had been seven then, tagging along after him when all he wanted was to play on the beach with his friends. The matching Louis XIV wing-backed chairs before the fireplace came from an estate auction in San Diego and Constance designed the low table between them the winter he turned twelve. The year his life went sideways. Beautiful things or not, they had to go.
    Leaning against the desk he critically eyed the dull red walls, the dark floorboards, and cracked pottery. Everything had to go if he were to win. Esme would hate that. So would Con. The thought made his chest twinge but he called a storage company and ordered a crew to come in anyway. Rehab started today, he decided, studying a crock filled with lilies and a stack of magazines inviting guests to sit and relax. Esmerelda’s touch. He’d seen her early this morning with flower cuttings in an oversized wicker basket, doing her utmost to look innocent and hard working. It was time for a meeting of the minds. Since she avoided him and the front desk area like the plague, he texted her, ordering her into the office.
    He turned up the sleeves of his Oxford shirt, blowing out a breath. Santiago looked around the office and made his decision. He wouldn’t ask for her permission to