Isabella lounged on the shaded veranda of her estate, sipping iced lemonade in a skimpy white sundress that clung to her curves. At twenty-nine, the divorced heiress had everything. But lately, her eyes kept drifting to the one man who tended it all.
Rafael.
The gardener was a quiet, muscular force of nature. Thirty-eight, with deeply tanned skin, broad shoulders and powerful arms corded from years of manual labor. His dark hair was usually damp with sweat, and his strong jaw stayed set in concentration. He rarely spoke more than a few words, but Isabella had caught him watching her more than once, those intense brown eyes lingering on her legs, her breasts, the sway of her hips as she walked the grounds.
This hot afternoon, Isabella wandered into the gardens wearing nothing but the thi
