murmured without batting an eye, and he held her gaze for a few seconds longer than strictly necessary before lowering his eyes, letting his lush dark lashes shield his expression. ‘What would you do with a nice, polite Matias?’
Georgina blushed—much to her annoyance—and glared. ‘I’ve spent hours travelling here to see you. The least you could do is to be nice to me.’
‘Yes, you have,’ Matias said thoughtfully, ‘and I’m wondering why. In fact, I’d go so far as to say I’m burning up with curiosity. I don’t think you’ve ever come to this house, have you?’
‘You know I haven’t.’
‘In fact, I didn’t think you ever got out of deepest, darkest Cornwall.’
‘You’ve always been so scathing about Cornwall! Don’t you have any loyalty to the place where you were brought up?’
‘No. So, moving on, Georgie...’ He circled her the way a shark might circle a minnow, slowly, thoroughly, and with keen, watchful interest. ‘If you’re not here to talk about my mother, then what exactly are you doing here? Not that your arrival wasn’t opportune.’
He sat on the chair facing her and tugged another chair towards him so that he could stretch out his long legs.
Georgina opened her voice to give him a piece of her mind. His mother despaired of him. His women came and went with barely a pause for breath in between, because Matias Silva had the attention span of a toddler in a candy shop when it came to women.
She caught the veiled amused expression in his dark eyes and abruptly shut her mouth. He wanted to get a rise out of her and that was the last thing she needed.
Instead, she met his gaze steadily and coolly. It took willpower, because he was, without doubt, the most drop-dead gorgeous man she had ever seen. Blessed with the exotic genes of his Argentinian father and the spectacular beauty of his English mother, Matias had emerged into the world with the sort of physical advantages that made people stare and then turn around for a second look, because surely no one could be quite so spectacular.
She had long ago forgiven herself for her girlish crush. She just wished that her disobedient eyes could stop drinking him in the way they were doing right now.
His features were chiselled to perfection, but his bronzed colouring and raven-dark hair, which he always kept slightly too long, rescued him from being just another good-looking guy.
‘I am here to talk to you about your mother,’ Georgina said into the lengthening silence. ‘But could I just unwind for a bit? I’m exhausted.’
‘It’s seven o’clock. Have you eaten?’
‘I had some sandwiches on the train.’
‘I’ll take you out to dinner.’
‘I doubt I’m dressed for the sort of restaurants you’re likely to patronise,’ Georgina said wryly.
‘How would you know what sort of restaurants I’d be likely to patronise?’ he asked.
But he was smiling crookedly at her, reminding her that beneath their obvious, glaring and insurmountable differences, there were times when they were eerily tuned in to one another. Longevity and history, she presumed.
‘Because I’m smart like that.’ She was beginning to feel overheated. ‘Thank you. It’s very nice of you. But...er...no, thank you. Why don’t you show me round your lovely house? I’d far rather that.’
The plan Georgina had sketched out had been a hurried one—a response to circumstances, formulated on impulse and put on the table before she’d had time to think through the details and, more to the point, the glaring, inescapable downsides. By the time she’d sat back and thought about it, it had been too late to take it all back.
Rose Silva believed that her son was finally on the verge of settling down, if not with the girl of his dreams, then certainly the girl of hers. She adored Georgina.
She finally had something to live for. She would have a daughter-in-law she loved. Her son would be settled, as he should be, with no more of his silly cavorting with women who weren’t suited to him at all. There would be grandchildren. All would be right in the world.
In the space of five minutes, Georgie’s suggestion of a relationship with Matias had turned into a full-blown when-shall-I-start-looking-for-a-hat? response. Georgie had squashed that enormous leap as firmly as she could, but here she was, supposedly having a serious relationship with the guy looking at her now with those fabulous dark, dark eyes.
What had begun as an ill-thought-out but well-intentioned little white lie had taken on a life of its own faster than a rocket soaring into space. An entire future had been planned before Georgina had had time to draw breath—and now here she was.
‘Please don’t say a word to Matias,’ she had begged Rose, horrified at the thought of a congratulatory phone call to a guy who would have no idea what his mother was going on about. ‘We...er...planned on breaking it to you together... Just that we’re going out, Rose... Who knows where that will lead...?’
The feeble utterances had actually brought her out in a cold sweat and prompted her immediate departure to London. As his newly acquired girlfriend, didn’t she need to know the layout of his house? She still felt queasy.
‘You want to see my house? Why?’
‘You’re so scornful whenever you come down to Cornwall... I want to see what you have here that’s so superior.’
Matias tilted his head to one side and looked at her carefully. ‘Why am I getting the feeling that something’s going on here that I don’t know about?’
‘You don’t have to show me around if you don’t want to.’
‘Bring your drink. Maybe after a bit of alcohol you’ll tell me exactly what’s going on, Georgie.’
‘Why are you so suspicious?’
‘Because I wasn’t born yesterday. I also know you. Some might say better than I’ve ever known any woman. You’re here for a reason, and if it’s not because my mother needs me to come down to Cornwall for health reasons, then you’re here for something else and you’re too scared to come right out and tell me. Is it money?’
On his way to the sitting room to begin the grand tour, Matias stopped abruptly and looked at Georgina through narrowed eyes. He positioned himself so close to her that she could pick up the faint whiff of whatever expensive aftershave he wore. She automatically edged back.
‘You think I’m here to...to ask you for money? And you claim to know me?’
‘It’s not that far-fetched.’ Matias shrugged. ‘You’d be surprised how many people come crawling out of the woodwork to ask for money when they find out that I’m in a position to bestow it upon them.’
‘Why would I have to ask you for money, Matias? I have a job! I’m a food photographer! By your lofty standards it may not pay much, but it’s more than enough for me to live on! So why on earth would I have to come to you for a loan?’
‘No
