Alicante Moonlight

Eliana flees her father's unreasonable demands and ends up penniless in a small town on the Spanish Costa Blanca. Desperate for a job and a place to stay, she learns of an opening for a transcriptionist at the home of mystery writer Alessandro. Mistaken for an applicant, she takes on the job and is grateful for the room and board provided.

Despite his reputation as a recluse mourning his deceased wife, Alessandro can't help but be drawn to Eliana. As they work together and get to know each other better, their initial curiosity turns into genuine affection.

But when Eliana's father sends the man he wants her to marry to bring her back home, she refuses to go. Alessandro overhears their conversation and assumes the worst - that Eliana had lied about her intentions from the beginning. Angry, he fires her on the spot.

Yet even in the midst of their misunderstanding, neither can fully let go of their feelings for one another. Can an honest discussion clear the air and lead to lasting happiness?

Eliana Purdue counted the Euros once more. The total hadn’t changed. She was 470 Euros away from destitution. Or the use of her bank card which she refused to do. To use it would give away her location. She hadn’t come all the way to this little Spanish town to be found so easily by her powerful father. She meant her final statement. She was leaving home, leaving him and his outrageous demands and his unbelievable betrayal.

She was also leaving behind the man her father hand picked to marry her. This was the twenty-first century, not feudal times. She’d pick out her own husband, thank you very much. And it wouldn’t be someone who had more in common with her father than with her.

Anger churned when she thought about recent events.

She took a deep breath, sipped her lemonade and gazed at the fishing boats bobbing beside the weathered wooden dock. A couple of old men mended nets. The hot sunshine didn’t seem to bother them. She’d have sought shade.

Her small suitcase rested at her side. Her voluminous purse held all her important items, such as passport, money and credit cards which she also refused to use. Her father would know as soon as he received the bills where she was if she charged a single thing.

For her rebellion to be successful, she had to stay hidden from the powerful men who undoubtedly was looking for her.

Eliana’s rebellion, she thought wryly. Could she pull it off? She’d done her best to vanish two weeks ago. So far she’d managed beautifully on her own. But her money was running out.

The white buildings behind her reflected the afternoon sun, gleaming in the brilliant light. She’d fallen in love with the little village perched on the edge of the Mediterranean Sea the moment she’d stepped off the bus a short time before. She’d already been charmed by the friendly people. Now she delighted in the simple beauty of the setting. And most important, she felt safe with the isolation. This place didn’t have the glamour of Madrid, nor the appeal of Majorca. The beach curving around the bay was practically desolate.

Definitely not the place her father would think of to search for his only child.

The hills that rose behind seemed to shelter the town from the rest of the country. To the left, olive groves marched into the distance, their rows neat and symmetrical. To the right the ground was untamed, a tangle of trees, bushes and wild flowers. At the top, almost like a crown, sat a grey stone castillo.

She hadn’t seen any sign indicating a parador nearby, which meant it was privately owned. Too bad, she’d love to spend one night in a castle in Spain.
Her financial situation, however, was more pressing. She needed to see if she could find work. It was unlikely without proper papers, but there had to be someone willing to let her earn some money without the formality of work permits. Maybe a local restaurant needed a waitress, with no questions asked. Or what?

She’d never held a paying job. Her experiences in recent years had been geared to planning lavish charity events or sharing hosting duties with her father at high-powered business dinners.

Since graduating from college several years earlier, she’d dabbled with establishing a career, only to be talked out of it again and again by her father.

He needed her too much, he’d said. No one else could handle the social aspects of his business as well as she did. If her mother had lived, she could have handled all that.

Anger threatened again at the lies and deception. Her mother was alive. Two weeks ago Eliana learned the truth. She gripped her glass tightly, wishing she’d said even more to the man who’d directed her every move until she’d learned of his deception.

He had the gall to expect her to marry Patrick Jackson. An alliance for business gain. No amount of arguments from Eliana had swayed him from his position. The pressure had grown intolerable.

Running away probably wasn’t the smartest thing she’d ever done, but she was sure it made an impression on her father. Now she needed to find work to prove she didn’t need her father or Patrick to live on.

She definitely wasn’t going to marry Patrick no matter what. If she never saw Patrick Jackson again, it might be too soon. Pompous idiot.

And threats to cut off her trust fund would be fruitless once she was earning a living.

She gazed at the sparkling water, trying to let her anger ebb. Of course independence had sounded perfect in her bedroom in Malibu. She remembered pacing back and forth, coming up with one idea after another.

In retrospect, it’d have been far easier to disappear in the States. She could have found work anywhere. Coming to Spain had been impulsive, giving into a long-held dream as well as the determination to put as much distance between herself and her father.

“Can I get you anything else?” the young waiter asked in rapid Spanish.

“No, thank you. This is fine,” she replied, a bit more slowly.

He’d been friendly since she’d chosen the small table near the edge of the patio. And patient with her California version of Spanish. She could be understood, and understand him, but only if the pace was slow.

She asked repeatedly for others to slow down since her arrival in Spain.

“Americano?” he asked with a wide grin.

“Si.”

She wished it wasn’t so obvious. Glancing around at all the dark-haired women sitting at other tables at the café, Eliana knew her blond hair stuck out like a beacon. But she could have been German or Dutch, why did he immediately peg her as American?

“Oh, are you here for Señor Serrano’s job?” the young man asked excitedly. “We have been wondering when another secretary would arrive. If not soon, Maria will recover and return.”

She blinked, wondering if she’d understood the rapid Spanish correctly.
“Where is Señor Serrano?”

Could it be this man wanted an American secretary?

No way, her luck couldn’t be running that good.

He pointed to the castillo on the hillside. The harsh grey granite seemed indomitable, rising loftily above the trees and shrubs that partially hid it from the town.

She looked at it, various scenarios flashing in her mind. Maybe she couldn’t spend the night at the castillo, but could she spend a few days there? What kind of secretary did the man need? She didn’t have a formal background in secretarial work in English, much less Spanish.

And she was having a bit of trouble conversing in Spanish, but once she’d been here a little longer, she was sure she’d pick up the different nuances. Still, she had a lot of organizing experience. She had dealt with difficult vendors, always met deadlines. How hard could the work be?

“How does one get to the castillo?” she asked, already determined to give it a try.

Answer the phone, make appointments, do some typing, she could handle that. The worst he could do was not hire her.

If luck was on her side, maybe she could get a temporary job to tide her over until she figured out her next step.