galling to realise that she’d spent the last half-hour looking such a fright. Because it must have been in the stable that she’d picked up those bits of straw in her hair, and the large smear of dust on her face.
Just as she was wondering if she could leave Antonio to twiddle his thumbs, while she rushed upstairs and tried to make herself look more presentable, she was startled to see the reflection of his tanned, handsome face appearing beside her.
‘Oh, Lord—what a mess!’ she muttered, giving him a fleeting, nervous smile in the mirror as she quickly tried to brush the dust from her cheek.
‘No problema…’ he murmured, standing close behind her tense figure and calmly plucking the long, thin pieces of straw from her tangled locks.
Unable to prevent an involuntary slight shiver at the touch of his warm fingers brushing against her skin, Gina was surprised to find herself meekly allowing him to turn her around. And, even more astonishingly, waiting patiently while he took a clean handkerchief from his pocket and proceeded to slowly brush the dust from her cheek.
‘That’s much better,’ he said, taking a step back and allowing his gaze to roam slowly, once more, over her full breasts and slim-waisted figure.
‘Oh, yes…you’ve definitely grown up since we last met, Gina,’ he drawled, the sardonic amusement in his voice suddenly setting her teeth on edge. ‘And now we can maybe have that drink you mentioned?’
She was swept by a sudden, quick flash of furious self-disgust at having allowed herself to be cut down to size. And by this man, of all people, she told herself grimly, fed up to the back teeth at the alarming speed with which her emotions seemed to be violently swinging up and down from one minute to the next.
It was like…well, it was just like being on a roller-coaster, she told herself, before giving him a curt nod and stomping off across the hall. The sharp, staccato sound of her leather-soled boots on the hard grey flagstones betrayed her momentary anger, and caused Antonio’s lips to twitch with amusement as he followed her into a large kitchen.
‘There’s some beer and a bottle of wine in the fridge. However, if you’d prefer something stronger…?’
Having assured her that chilled white wine would be perfect, and after carrying the small tray outside on to the terrace, Antonio raised the question of why the house had appeared to be so deserted on his arrival.
‘It wasn’t too clever of me to leave all the doors open,’ she admitted, sitting down on the long stone seat set against the side of the house and trying not to stare at his long, tanned fingers as they deftly removed the cork from the wine bottle.
‘Although we usually do, if it’s a hot afternoon like today,’ she told him with a slight shrug, before adding carelessly, ‘But I suppose I should have remembered that the Lamberts are away for a long weekend.’
Antonio raised a dark, quizzical eyebrow. ‘The Lamberts…?’
Damn! Why didn’t I keep my stupid mouth shut? Gina asked herself irritably.
She was a grown woman, and quite sensible enough to realise that while Antonio might well try and flirt with her that was as far as he was likely to go. And, let’s face it, she told herself wryly, he was just the sort of guy who automatically turned on the charm whenever in the presence of a female—whatever their age might be.
However, she really didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. It was just possible that, having told him she was alone in the house, he might think she was expecting him to come on to her. So…it might be as well to hit that nail hard on the head straight away.
‘Yes, the housekeeper and her husband, Doris and Ted Lambert, are away for the weekend,’ Gina said as he handed her a glass of wine. ‘They’ve looked after the house—and my grandfather—for the last twenty years. Quite honestly,’ she added with a quick grin, ‘I don’t know what we’d do without them.’
‘Ah, yes, I see.’
‘However…Doris always lays on one of her friends in the village to come in and clean when she’s away. And since her friend is apt to sing hymns at the top of her voice, early in the morning, I’ve given you a bedroom suite in the far wing of the house,’ Gina told him, adding casually, ‘As far away from the main block and the other bedrooms as possible.’
‘I see. All is explained,’ he murmured enigmatically, leaving her to worry about whether she’d been too obvious as he came over to sit down on the stone bench beside her. ‘But it must be a problem having no cook in the kitchen?’
‘Nonsense!’ Gina laughed nervously, wishing that he had chosen to sit on one of the comfortable garden chairs instead. Unfortunately, there was no getting away from the fact that she was finding the close proximity of this man distinctly disturbing.
‘I’m perfectly capable of cooking a meal,’ she told him briskly. ‘Good wine and good food are natural partners. Which is why I spent a year doing a cordon bleu course in Paris, when I left school. However, since I didn’t have much warning of your arrival today, I’ve booked a table for dinner at one of the local restaurants,’ she added, before rising to her feet and suggesting that he might like to be shown to his room.
Luckily, the situation wasn’t proving to be nearly so awkward as she had feared, Gina told herself some hours later, as she leaned back in her chair, gazing around the crowded restaurant.
In fact, he appeared to approve of her very plain, black silk sleeveless dress, and the simple row of pearls which had belonged to her mother. And apart from a slight altercation when Antonio had adamantly insisted on them leaving the house in his car—‘I have never allowed myself to be driven by a woman—and I have no intention of doing so now!’—he was proving to be the perfect guest.
He’d also been charmed by the sight of the ivy-covered restaurant situated at the end of a narrow country lane, nodding with satisfaction when they’d been shown to a secluded table in the beautifully decorated dining room. Which clearly gave them some degree of privacy, and the opportunity of holding a conversation without being deafened by the chattering noise of the other diners.
‘I’d forgotten that it can be quite so noisy at times,’ she’d murmured apologetically, but he’d brushed her words aside.
‘That, my dear Gina, is merely the sign of a good restaurant,’ he’d told her, before turning his attention to the wine list.
Fortunately he’d approved of the wine list—always a tricky point when taking those in the trade out to dinner!—and there’d been some considerable discussion with the attentive head waiter over exactly what to drink with their choice of cold watercress soup and chicken in a tarragon sauce.
Not only had the wine and food proved to be delicious, but she’d found herself gradually relaxing and enjoying Antonio’s company: laughing at his wry, amusing description of the total chaos he’d discovered in the Bodega when taking over the reins of the family company from his uncle Emilio. ‘I’m not saying that the invoices were still being written with a quill pen.’ He’d grinned. ‘But the ancient telephone switchboard had clearly not been changed since the days of Alexander Graham Bell!’
And, of course, she’d been delighted to hear the up-to-date news of her old friend—his younger sister, Roxana, whom she’d met when the Spanish girl had spent a year at school in London to brush up her English.
Drawn together by the
